


A Life Together

by Clever_Girl



Series: My Fern Universe [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Beetee's Games, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I think I meant to say sibling issues, My Fern Universe, Smut included, Victory Tour, Wiress' Games, Woah way to auto suggest some stuff that isn't happening oops, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 61,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clever_Girl/pseuds/Clever_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments together make a relationship. How Beetee and Wiress forge a life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I'm actually posting one of my multi-chapter stories that I'm not completely finished, mostly because I'm not sure how much story is left to write! This is actually the same Wiress and Beetee from my "Fern" stories (The Will to Live) but can be read separately. I was writing more of Fern's story and realized these two needed theirs told first. Later in the story, Beetee and Wiress begin a romantic and sexual relationship, while she is age 16. In my state (PA) and (I've decided) in Panem, this is the age of consent and everything is perfectly legal. They also discuss maturity levels. HOWEVER, if this makes you uncomfortable in any way, please do not read further. I haven't chosen the underage warning because it is not considered 'underage' to them. Just an age difference.
> 
> Beetee's last name and Wiress' brother come from Nikola Tesla, an engineer, physicist, and inventor who was a really interesting guy. His generation's Sheldon Cooper, look him up. Wiress' last name is for Charles A. Parsons, who invented the steam turbine. I just thought that was interesting. Also, this story was never intended to be chapters, but once it hit 37k words I sort of figured it needed to be, lol. So some of the chapter breaks might be awkward. I'm trying my best to pick appropriate spots. I will post the next part soon!

* * *

_Beetee_

Eighteen. It's my last year of the reaping. The last year I have to stand here, worried about myself. I'll never actually be free of worrying, of course. I'll be safe, my best friend Nikola will be safe, but not any of our younger friends, not any of the underclassmen I tutor. And next year, we'll have to start worrying about Nik's little sister, Wiress. No, I can't stop worrying, not as long as I see children playing outside and I know one of them could be chosen.

The escort, a garishly dressed man named Grant, reaches into the mass of papers, reaching for the name of one unfortunate boy. "Beetee Tesla!" I flinch, push my glasses up my nose. Was that really my name? It must be, because Nik is clenching his fists, wide eyed and panicky.

"Don't even think about it," I tell him. We've promised. No volunteering. Well, I was never really going to stick to that promise. He has his sister to take care of. They don't have parents anymore, and my family would happily take her in, but if Nik was called, I would volunteer for him anyway. I try to hold my head up as I approach the stage; try to appear calm for the cameras that are now watching my every move, watching my behavior to see if I'm worth sponsoring. I'm eighteen, I can hold myself together. The girl on stage shakes my hand. I didn't catch her name because I was too worried about the drawing for the boys.

She whispers, "Ada". She has blonde hair, doesn't seem to belong in District 3. Maybe, if I have to kill her, I can pretend she isn't from home. I'm led off stage in a trance. I know people can visit us; I did it once for a girl I was tutoring. She died. Twenty three die every year. We haven't had a victor in almost my entire life; I was only one when Marks came home from the icy wasteland he was stuck in.

My parents rush into my little room, hold me while we all cry. "I love you, dearest," my mom says. They don't plead for me to come home, they don't give me tips for the arena. We all know how unlikely it is that I will be the one who makes it. They are ushered out and I have time with my grandmother. I'm happy to see that my next visitors are Nikola and Wiress. Nik and I don't have anything to say. We know we don't. We're best friends and best friends don't need words. Wiress, however, is clinging to my neck and weeping. She's eleven, her parents are dead. Now I will probably die. It's going to be difficult for her.

"Come home," she whispers into my neck. "You could actually do it." It's the first vote of confidence I've gotten so far, and she's going to make me cry again. "You will be the smart one, I know you can outthink them. Just find a way to come home."

I raise my eyes to Nik's, this is a promise to them both. "I will certainly try."

Wiress raises her head abruptly. "Do you have a token? A district token?" I shake my head, it's one of the last things on my mind right now. She slips a friendship bracelet off her wrist, the kind made with embroidery floss. "I made this. I…maybe you could wear this. If it's not too girly." It's blue and black, her favorite colors. I smile at her, the biggest smile I can pull out of my tired heart.

"I'll wear it." The peacekeepers usher them away, Wiress gives me a kiss on the cheek, I give her one on the forehead.

"I believe in you", she whispers.

Then I say what might end up being my last words to her. "Stay strong, little livewire."

  


On the train, I experiment with ways to wear the friendship bracelet since it's too small for my wrist. What seems to stay on best is to wrap it several times around my middle finger. I wear it during training to see if it gets in the way at all. It doesn't.

Marks has good tips for me, walks me through some ideas for training, possible locations for the arena, ways to survive without many sponsors, since we can't rely on District 3 fans choosing me over the photogenic Ada. Her mentor, Elisa, is trying to paint her as a pretty girl, maybe not in-your-face-sexy, but the kind you marry. Her interview outfit is reminiscent of a wedding gown, but in light blue. She looks almost delicate, and I wonder if it's going to be a help or a hindrance. I take the stage after her, feeling strong in my new dark suit. I know I'm not charming, but I do seem to get along with everyone, and I try to push being friendly, being smart. I want all of the sponsors to look up, see me as a good investment.

We go into the arena tomorrow. My stylist already has my token, Wiress' bracelet, ready and waiting for me wherever the hovercraft takes us. I'm feeling restless and nervous. Marks gave me something to help me sleep, but I'm too wound up to even think about it yet. There's a knock at my door.

It's Ada. "I can't sleep. This is awful." I don't know if she means the lack of sleep is awful, or the situation is awful. Both, perhaps.

"Me either," I offer.

She swings her hair over her shoulder. It's so much longer than I've seen anyone's before. It would get caught in some machinery if you worked in a factory or something. Ada is pretty, but in such an alien way that I don't quite understand it. "I can't believe I'm going to die a virgin!"

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Is that really the _one_ thing that bothers you about this situation?"

"It's the one thing that I can actually do something about," she says defiantly.

"Marks?" He's twice her age. Okay, that doesn't make him that old at all, but older enough to be weird.

She throws her hands up in exasperation. "You, stupid."

"What." It's not even a question, just the first thing that escapes my mouth. What. She looks suddenly shy, as if she practiced up to this part and now doesn't know what to say.

"Aren't you a virgin, too?"

"Yes." I don't remind her that I'm eighteen, a year older than her, and if she thinks it's odd or somehow shameful to still be a virgin, then I must be awful. I don't remind her that in the real world she wouldn't look twice at some geek engineering student. I also don't tell her that I don't feel some pressing need to have sex in order to feel like I've experienced life so I can be at peace with my death. I don't tell her that watching everyone in training has actually boosted my confidence that I might be able to win.

Instead, I'm a teenage boy, and I kiss Ada.

  


_The 52_ _nd_ _Annual Hunger Games_

The tributes stand on their podiums, surrounded by marshland, the cornucopia is on the only fully stable ground within sight, the rest is a maze of holes and swamp. The gong sounds, and the tributes are off. Fortune favors the meek in this case, as the girl from District 2, a career whom many people think will win, immediately sinks into the mire, having run for the cornucopia without watching where she placed her feet. Beetee Tesla from District 3 carefully steps only where the reeds are thickest, where he has leverage and something to hold on to. This makes him one of the first to reach the cornucopia safely, and he has his choice of supplies.

Alliances are formed, mostly small groups of twos and threes, as there just isn't solid land for more than that to even stand together. Beetee allies with his District partner Ada, and a small boy named Bronco from 10. Bronco's size is a benefit in this arena, he is light enough to walk where a larger child would sink and die in the muck. Beetee is the one who truly saves the day, though, fighting off a trio who attempt to catch them asleep and vulnerable. He's not skilled with the lightweight staff he has been wielding, but he puts enough force behind his blows that a knock on the head can be fatal, or at least push them off firm land. His bravery makes him briefly popular, and he receives a silver parachute, full of wires and electronics.

Ada is the first of the alliance to go, she is separated from the group while foraging for food, tricked into going further than she should by the boy from District 2 imitating a bird. She thinks she could bring back a prize, they could eat well tonight, but all she gets for her trouble is a blade in the belly. Beetee and Bronco hear the cannon and immediately know it was for Ada. They abandon camp and go on the run, eager to keep themselves from being tracked. Meanwhile, other tributes are being picked off by the careers and by the gamemaker's mutts. There are large lizards in some of the marshland, with jaws that can snap through bone. All it takes is a tribute bending to get water, and they are pulled under in less than a second. Bronco hasn't seen this, so he's caught completely unaware when Beetee shouts and attempts to grab his arm. Beetee's shocked expression is the last thing Bronco ever sees. Beetee, terrified and now alone, races through the arena, trying to find someplace safe, someplace he can form a plan. He huddles inside the cornucopia and goes through his remaining supplies.

The only tributes left besides Beetee are a group of career tributes and the odd pair of girl from 7 and boy from 11. They all draw near the cornucopia in the hopes of left over supplies or food. It's the only major spot where mutts have _not_ been seen. The careers catch sight of 11, and take him down easily with a thrown blade. His ally screeches and throws herself at them, stabbing ineffectively with the blade she pulled from his body. Her neck is snapped before she even realizes what a dumb move it was. The careers are eager to take out the last kid, turn it into a real fight between themselves. Beetee stands in the cornucopia, looking like an easy target. He smoothly dodges a throwing knife, now the careers are left with close contact weapons. They don't make it two steps before Beetee connects the battery he received in his parachute, and the marshland hisses with electricity. He clenches his eyes shut, holding the connectors as long as possible before he begins to gasp in smoke. He is the only living creature left in the arena, standing on the only dry, solid piece of land.

  


_Beetee, age 18, District 3 victor_

Grant steps off the train first, flamboyant as always in his bright purple suit. My eyes must be used to the Capitol by now, because it doesn't seem so bad, and everyone else is wincing at it. He introduces Marks, and then me. I 'm more overwhelmed by this, by being treated like someone special in my own home, than I was at the Capitol. The lights up for the cameras make me squint, and I can't see past the first two rows of people, the ones who winced, but the sounds make me think that there are hundreds more present. I want to seize up, but I remind myself I am a winner now. Not shy. Not the nerd who gets teased. I'm going to be good at talking to people and at being charming and popular.

There's space set aside for family, easy for good camera shots, and Grant leads me there. My parents and Gran are there, smiling and crying. "My baby!" Mom cries out. I'm surrounded by all the reasons I needed to get out of there alive. It's fantastic. After all the hugs and kisses, they step slightly over, and there are the Parsons'. Nik and I thump each other on the back. I'm ecstatic to see him, everyone I care about being safe. Safety isn't just assumed anymore. The second I'm out of Nik's arms, something throws itself at me, knocking some of the air out of my lungs.

"Hi Wiress," I whisper into the mass of awkward preteen arms and hair that is my best friend's little sister. She looks up at me, studying my face.

"You came back," is all she says. She can be a chatterbox when we're in their house, but around all these people and cameras, she's shy and quietly stares at me while I greet other people. Something about her gaze makes me feel awesome. The people in the Capitol looked at me like I was their hero because I killed people and was the smartest. Wiress looks at me like I'm her hero because I came home. As I speak to the cameras, I feel her eyes on me, and I hold up my hand, show her my token wrapped around my finger. She grins. Being a hero feels wonderful.

  


_Wiress Parsons, age 12_

We watched everything we could that showed Beetee on his victory tour. Now that it's just Nik and I in the house, we can watch what we'd like as much as we want, so we leave it on and I pretend that Beetee is in the room with us, instead of speaking to the mayor of one of the districts. I don't like the Beetee he has to be during these bits, he isn't _my_ Beetee when he talks like this and his face is sad. I know he's sad because he killed people and saw people be killed and all these things that are horrible, but he had to make it out alive, and if he didn't do those things he wouldn't have and I don't think I'm selfish to be glad I can still run across the field to see him instead of going to some graveyard where he wouldn't even be able to talk back. When I try to think about Beetee if he had died, my thoughts run away so I can't think them. That's how untrue they are.

The big party they throw here for him in the city square is strange because Beetee has to talk to the camera Capitol people and he is television Beetee when he does that, but then he turns around to one of us and he's _my_ Beetee again. I'm wearing my new favorite dress that Nik gave me, it is green and he says I look very pretty indeed because that's what the prince says in one of the books we read together he says "you look very pretty indeed" and I made the mistake of telling him that I think of Beetee as a prince sometimes and Nik is the best brother in the world but everyone knows brothers tease.

There's dancing and music which is lovely because I really like music and I am happy dancing by myself, even though I hear people make fun of me and they think I'm old enough that I should have a partner and dance in a boring circle, but they don't understand that I'm not being _silly_ , I am just having _fun_ and I don't see why it's fun to stand very still and then move your feet like a box.

"Hi, darling!" says a woman and I don't know her. "You're friends with the victor, right? Can we interview you for the show? It would be on the TV, just like things you watch! Wouldn't that be fun?" She's leaning down to talk to me even though I'm tall enough that she could talk to me like an adult. I'm eleven but I'm very smart and I can understand regular concepts without resorting to this sort of patronizing tone. I open my mouth to tell her exactly the science behind how the images she records will be projected onto people's screens, so she knows I'm not stupid, when Beetee joins us. He has a scowly face, which is actually kind of funny except he's serious.

"Leave her alone. I told you what I was willing to do, that's it. Film what you can and leave."

"Now, Beetee," she says, "we need to capture the human aspect as well, everyone will be wanting to see you celebrate, with your friends, and young girls often have the sweetest little sound bites about handsome male victors." She trills a fake sounding laugh.

"You can't just use people," he says, and I want to interrupt again to say that of course, they clearly can. But I don't. I think he knows this already. "Just don't."

"I don't want to talk to you, sorry." I tell the woman. "But I'll let you film us dancing or something. So you have your human element." And Beetee will stop being quite so upset, is the part I leave out. Beetee gives me sad eyes, but we take hands and go to the dancing.

"You don't have to be used like this for me, Wire." He says. "They shouldn't be bothering someone like you for their entertainment." I stay quiet because he's making me a bit ticked. I don't know what he means by "someone like me" but I suspect he means a kid. Even though I'm capable of doing something nice for a friend, like this, and it's only a few months until they can use me for their entertainment by reaping me. I'm not really tall enough yet to look him in the eyes while dancing, so I stay silent and hope he can understand what I feel. He tends to.

"I hate dancing in a boxy circle," is all I manage to say. He doesn't even respond, just holds me fast around my waist and lifts me enough that we sort of swoop, dancing through the crowd, zigging and zagging while everyone else is so much stiller. I can't stop laughing, and my feet aren't touching the ground, and I hope this is the bit they show on the television, it's human if that's what they want, but it's also us. He's being _my_ Beetee and I want that to be seen on the television.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetee and Wiress forge a life together.

_Wiress Parsons, age 12 and a half_

I am not going to stop banging on this door until Beetee opens it. I know he's in there and that's why I keep hitting even though my hands are sore and it's been over ten minutes and I'm pretty sure I could break in there in less than three minutes, because it's the standard hinge door and I know exactly how to separate…

The door opens and I twist my body to avoid hitting Beetee in the face because I was already going to hit the door again. I just had a growth spurt and I'm not used to my height and I fall a lot which I hope goes away pretty soon because I really want to be graceful and pretty and have Beetee think I'm great.

"You need to stop." He says it so roughly that I'm scared for a moment. But really, what kind of world is this where he expects us to leave him alone in a big house with just his grief? I know about parents dying, and I know how dark he probably feels and I don't think the Games make any of this better so I am _not_ leaving him alone and he can hate me for it, I don't care. He can ignore me, but I'll be there keeping him from being alone. I haven't said anything yet, because I got lost in these thoughts. I get into the doorframe before he shuts it on me.

"In the last twenty four hours, have you eaten, showered, worn real pants, spoken to another human being other than now, or gone outside of your own volition? If you can say yes to any two, I will leave." I can see his pajama pants and unshaven face, so I know what the real answer will be. I push past him into his house.

This place isn't his home yet, his parents were working out what to move, how to move before they died, so it's only ever just been him. There aren't any pictures or paintings or anything to make this look different from the other furnished but empty houses waiting for someone to win the Games and live in them. He even took the house furthest away from the other two winners.

Beetee stands and watches me move around his house, he doesn't sit or talk to me, just watches me make him an omelet and set a proper place at the table with a napkin and juice, all food that Nik has been bringing over regularly and putting in Beetee's fridge and finding still unopened several days later. "Sit." I demand. Beetee is used to my stubbornness, so he does listen to me, and I get him to eat some, and I just sit with him for a while longer, and then we start to talk. As we talk, he eats some more without paying attention, and then he eats and ends up talking some without paying attention and it all just snowballs until he's eaten the whole omelet and he's telling me all the horrible things he's seen and he is crying and eventually he throws up the whole omelet and I make him soup instead.

I force him to take a shower because he is stinky, and I do have a brother his age, so I know how to force someone into the shower and turn on the water with his clothes on so he gets clean like it or not. I bring the soup up to his room for him, and he has actually washed and put on clean clothes so we are really getting somewhere. He eats some soup off of a tray table by the bed and I curl up in the bed against some pillows and talk about silly things so he will eat without crying it all up again. Then, I force him to talk about his parents. If you don't talk, you'll explode. You just turn into a big ball of hate and no one can love you anymore because you are made of hate. That's how I felt without my parents, anyway. He talks about little things at first, things I knew, like his mom's pie and the way his dad called him Meetee as a joke. He talks and the crying is gentle now, it feels like regular crying that you are supposed to do when people die, so I hold him, I try to be the older sibling for a change, and it seems to work. He lets me in the next day after only six minutes of knocking.

 _Beetee_ _Tesla, age 19_

There are days when I wouldn't get out of bed, except I know Wiress is going to force her way in anyhow, and being dressed or fed or walking around makes her at least a little less worried about me.

_Wiress Parsons, age 14 and a half_

Nik and I are almost the only ones waiting for the train. No one cares about the mentors of dead tributes. They don't get cameras and lights and cheers. Elisa is the only other person here, but she's a victor and maybe it's a formality that she has to greet Marks and Beetee. When I see Beetee stepping off the train, I call his name, wave my arms, and he manages to smile at me. I know how much it took him to make that small gesture. I know he's exhausted and depressed and all he wants to do is hide in his room and cry. I know because I make him tell me, although his confessions have gotten more voluntary lately, maybe he's realized how good it feels to get stuff off your chest.

Nik grabs the bag from him, and Beetee gives me a hug. I'm a hugger. Nik is not. Well, except me, but I think that's just sister privilege. "We're staying at your place tonight," Nik informs him. "No arguments."

Thankfully, he doesn't argue. I fight the urge to take his hand. Remind myself I'm just a friend, I'm just a kid, he doesn't love me back. We get to Beetee's house and start our regular Beetee-is-back-from-the-Capitol routine. I cook, Nik handles any Beetee-chat suitable for a guy, then we eat and Nik cleans up while I handle any Beetee-chat suitable for a girl. Getting him to talk in the first place is the difficult part. I'm standing there, in his stupid boring living room, trying to get him to open up to me and at the same time ignore how much I want to kiss him, how much I want to just _grow up_ already and be old enough that he would take me seriously if I ever got up the courage to do it. Beetee is just _sitting_ on the couch, staring at nothing, face blank and his hands in his lap. If he were talking, I'd listen. If he were crying, I'd hold him. All I can do is sit next to him and hold his limp hand in mine. He's not wearing his district token, the bracelet I gave him. It wasn't exactly sturdy, probably broke or something, but I'm still vaguely disappointed.

"If you need time to go over your thoughts or something, get them to where you can talk, that's fine," I tell him. "But you need to let me know. Because tomorrow I will _make_ you talk to me." I squeeze his hand. "You're scaring me, I just want to know you're alright!" I feel the tiniest of squeezes back.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he rasps. "I just…can't…tonight." That's okay, that's an acceptable answer. Nik and I just lead him up to his bedroom. There are guest rooms with guest beds, but Beetee's is big enough for the three of us, and with one of us on either side, he won't fall out of bed during a nightmare. I'm in bed, about to turn the lamp off when I see the frame. A picture of the three of us, with his token, my bracelet, in the frame. He keeps it by his bed. When he wakes up from a nightmare, we're there by his bed for him. That's lovely. I snuggle into my little luxury of being able to smell him on my pillow.

_Beetee Tesla, age 22_

My birthday is usually right before the reaping. It's some kind of cruel joke that I can't really enjoy it because I'm already too nervous. I don't know why, but his year seems particularly nerve-wracking. It shouldn't be, I actually have the year off, Marks and Elisa are mentoring and I will be spared talking to the tributes, getting to know them. Then again, I won't have any power to help, either. The ceremony seems to take forever and I have to be careful of my face because I know the stage is on camera the whole time. I tune out the speech and the video, caught in an endless loop playing in my mind "not Wiress, not Wiress, not Wiress" over and over and over until the girl's name is called and it's _not_ Wiress. That's another gift from the Capitol you get on reaping days. The guilt over being happy your loved ones weren't chosen. The pain you feel when you automatically smile at the name, and another family wails.

I still get off stage as soon as I'm allowed, and embrace Wiress. Nik joins us when he can fight through the crowd, and the world shrinks down to the three of us, arms wrapped tight, holding on. Three orphans who only have each other. Free from the worry of losing one of them, at least for another year.

_Wiress Parsons, age 16_

I'm woken up by Nikola jumping on my bed. I think he's such a good teacher because he's really just a big kid himself. "Happy Birthday, Wire-tires! Get on up!" I grab his legs so he falls onto the bed with me.

"Gotcha. Little sister attack!" He gives me some playful shoves, and drags me out of bed.

"Come on, come on, get a shower, get dressed, we've got a big day!" Nik always makes a big deal of my birthday, I think he enjoys it more than me. I care more about my current project, and I wonder if I can steal away to work on it a bit today. I think I can stop the motor overheating so easily, and I have a few ideas I'm just desperate to try. I stand under the showerhead for a few minutes before I realize my thoughts have drifted and I never turned the water on. That sort of thing keeps happening to me.

I dress and go downstairs, where my two favorite guys in the whole world are waiting for me. "Hi Beetee," I say softly.

"Birthday Girl," he responds, with the crooked grin I love so much and a nod. Nik holds out my coat, holds it while I slip each arm in, like gentlemen do on television. It makes me giggle.

"Let's go!"

Beetee hands me a travel cup of coffee and places his hand on the small of my back to escort me outside. The touch flusters me, and I inhale the steam coming off the coffee to hide my blush. "Where are we going? What's the big surprise?" I demand from my brother.

"It's not a surprise, it's only what you've been whining about for the last year! Beetee and I are taking you backstage at the Engineering School!" I'm pretty sure I'm grinning like a fool. As a student, I have limited access to materials and machines and archives. If they take me for a tour, though, I'll get to see some really amazing stuff. Nik is really pumped, and high fives Beetee at my reaction. He keeps running ahead a little bit, then back. Back and forth…I wish I had some of that energy. He exhausts me enough that I yawn into my coffee.

"Did I make it right?" Beetee asks. He's keeping perfect time walking next to me. I keep staring at the ground, watching our feet hit at the same time. He takes my arm, and I realize he's waiting for me to answer. He's very patient with me, most people get frustrated and yell but he waits, or finishes my thought.

"Yes, it's perfect. Nice and strong." He keeps my arm tucked into his for the entire walk, and _this_ could be the best birthday present ever. I really love him. It's terrifying because you always think puppy love will just go away so you can find someone more suitable, but here I am, in bliss at his touch.

Both of my boys are patient with me all day, they handle me asking questions and staring at things and spending lots of time on stuff that probably bores them and this is a wonderful birthday.

Dinner is just Nik and I. Beetee spends a lot of time here, since he lives alone, but this is a special sibling night. Beetee will be fine, we've made sure, over the years, that he knows how to cook a little, and he's pretty in demand as a dinner guest due to his fame. Only, those people always want to talk about his moment of glory, the Hunger Games. He hates talking about them. Well, to anyone but me. And that's just because I made him. It wasn't healthy for him to hold it all inside.

I hang out with Nik all night and he gives me his present, all sorts of goodies that I need for my next project. I gape. "Beetee stole me your blueprints so I could see what you needed." Nik says sheepishly. I hug him tight. He knows exactly what I like. Nik goes up to bed, and I sneak to the shed to take one last look at my project. I only planned on being out for five minutes, but the next time I look up, my watch says it's been forty five, and Beetee is standing in the doorway with one of the sweaters I keep at his house.

"Really, Wiress? You do this every time" His words are scolding, but his voice is kind. That's how he always gets me to listen to him. "Just wear a coat, even if you think you'll be right back."

I slip on the sweater. "I got distracted. I've been dealing with this motor issue all week and I think I'm finally making headway." I wrinkle my nose. It's really dark and late and I should call it a night. I wonder what Beetee is doing here at this hour. The sweater I understand. He knows me well enough to bring it if he was coming by.

"I have a present for you," he says, answering my unspoken question. He won't meet my eyes for some reason. I decide he's probably cold, and we head to the house.

"Come on in, I'll make hot chocolate."

He nods, still not looking at me directly. I keep chattering about my project while I make the hot chocolate, unwilling to have awkward silence. We're usually good at silence, and my chattering is strange because I have a difficult time with long thoughts sometimes, but something is just different tonight. I place a mug in front of him, and sit down with mine. "Something's wrong." It's really a question, but I don't want him to deny it. I want him to just tell me.

"Not wrong, I've just been thinking about your birthday." He's so unsure of himself and what he's saying sounds so harmless that I want to laugh at him. I don't because I don't want to hurt his feelings, but he's fidgeting and awkward and it's awfully adorable. "It's just a shame that people don't seem to understand you. You should have lots of friends and a boyfriend and a big sixteenth birthday party. And instead you spend it with your twenty something brother and another guy who's like a brother."

"You're not like a brother." I say automatically. I don't want to give myself false ideas, but I think a smile just flashed across his face. "I have friends, just not close ones. Because you're right, they don't understand me. And boys…I kissed a few boys when everyone my age began being obsessed and I didn't see what the big deal was. I'm happy with how I spend my time, and you're not in charge of policing it, anyway." He's staring into his mug.

"It's just odd to see you getting older, that's all. I need to get used to it. Stop thinking of you as a child." His eyes meet mine, and there's some sort of promise there. I wish I could understand it. "Anyway, your present." He slides a small box across the table. Inside, there's a very pretty pendant, a black square swirled with blue. My favorite colors, and incidentally, the colors of our eyes. I pick it up, and my fingers immediately find a catch. A key slides from the pendant, where it was hiding. I look up, waiting for the explanation.

"It's a key to my workshop. Where there's an empty workstation just waiting for you to mess it up." He smiles at my shock and happiness. "It's been pre-approved by Nik and everything."

I dart around the table to hug him. It's the perfect gift. No more hours in an unheated shed working on my stuff. Instead, hours working next to Beetee in comfort. He leans into my hug, hand on my arm. "I thought the necklace was a good idea because you tend to lose things." I really do. "This way, you can wear it and always know where it is." He is brilliant. He really is brilliant and he knows me better than anyone else. This is the best birthday ever. I give him a big kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you so much! Thank you thank you thank you" He's blushing, I hope from the kiss. He gets up and places his mug in the sink.

"I have to go home, it's really late. Not technically your birthday anymore, either." He squeezes my hand as I walk him out. "Good night." Then, and I will never forget this, he kisses me on the cheek back.

Best birthday ever.

_Beetee_

She's fifteen when I let myself accept that my fondness for her is not that of a little sister, or even that of a friend whom I also find attractive. I think we reach a deep level of understanding, I think we get along well enough that we would have things to say every single day. We've already spent hours upon hours talking since she started pushing her way into my house, making me live again after my parents died. I think I find her attractive enough that I would never look at another woman. I now understand why people get married because I want all that. From Wiress. I want arguments and housework and boring day to day life. I think she could put up with the times I feel broken, like I haven't escaped the Games. I have nightmares and some issues, but she is the one who forces me to acknowledge them, to talk about them, and that's actually made them a little better.

I finally accept all of these things that I have been thinking, and say it out loud. "I love Wiress." I say it in an empty room in my empty house, but I've never actually let myself even think it properly before, so this is something.

I love her and I'm a victor and I'm seven years older than her and I don't deserve her and I'm an idiot.

I love her so damn much.


	3. Chapter 3

_Wiress Parsons, age 16 and a half_

I'm standing in a sea of sixteen year olds. I really dislike being in huge groups of people. There are so many sounds and smells, and so many people touch me, bump into me. It's overwhelming and my thoughts just want to close off and think of machines, something I understand. Instead, I look at the stage and focus on Beetee. I know this is hell for him. He hates reaping day. We all do, but we each have a good chance of getting to leave around ten am, breathing a huge sigh of relief before we go about our day. Beetee _knows_ he's going to be involved. The escort begins. Her name is Gundry or something similar. None of us really know what it is properly since this is only her second year; I suspect she says it differently every time she introduces herself to be mysterious on purpose. Someone near me makes a quiet joke about her outfit. A desperate joke to break the tension and anxiety. I keep my eyes on Beetee. He actually meets my eyes, and it feels like a hug from a distance. Comforting. I touch the pendant around my neck. It is heavy enough to keep me grounded, keep me present. I focus on how smooth it feels so I can hear the ceremony without being distracted. The slip is chosen from the female pile…opened…read. "Wiress Parsons." I have barely registered it when Beetee cries out quickly, before regaining control of himself. His mentor partner, the middle aged Elisa, is physically holding him down. I walk to the stage like a robot.

"Stay calm, Beetee, stay calm. Don't give them any ammunition. No reason to punish you," I think. His family's deaths were a punishment. I don't want him hurt, too. Maybe, just maybe, he'll know what I'm thinking. He understands me so well, always knows what I want to say. Please just hear this. The entire time I am on stage, I am willing Beetee to have a blank face, to be still, to not care. The chosen boy is named Auster, and he seems to dislike me for an unspecified reason. I'm escorted into a small room, and I only sit for a moment, feeling completely numb, before Nik barrels in.

"He's going to get you out, he's got to." Nik is holding me too tightly, he's been crying, but must have wiped his face to seem strong for me. He couldn't hide the red eyes and the tear stains on his shirt. "Beetee will have a plan and get you out. Just listen to him. I love you so much, just come home." He kisses my cheek and pulls me back into his arms. "Just come home" he mumbles into my hair. We haven't had hardly any time before the Peacekeepers force him out and me on the train. I'm shown to my room, and when I open the door, Beetee is already waiting for me.

"I'm your mentor. Even though it's usually male mentor for boys…I asked to mentor you. I have to root for you." He's a fidgety, shaky mess. I sit on the bed while he goes into planning mode. "You'll be the most intelligent person in there by far, I'm sure of it. We just need to make sure you get the gear you need. I'll get you loads of sponsors. They always back the pretty girls." He stops, pushes his glasses up from where they've slipped. "We can do this." I'm completely overwhelmed, I haven't had a single moment to process any of what has just happened to me, and for some reason hearing him call me pretty was the detonator. I start to cry and I can't stop, so Beetee just sits and holds me.

_Beetee_

I'm so proud of how well Wiress is holding up. She's scared and worried but doesn't let any of it show when the gamemakers or possible sponsors could be watching. I feel confident after the tribute parade, she looked lovely and mysterious in the dark green with gold lines. She was supposed to be a microchip, but I think the stylist mostly cared about it being skin-tight. I've already gotten some sponsorship offers. I'm on my way to her room to congratulate her when Auster pushes past me. The boy's been surly since he stepped on the train, I normally wouldn't blame someone for being in a bad mood in this situation, but I get the feeling that this is just his personality. I turn the corner, and Wiress is in the middle of the hallway with her fists clenched, scowling. "What just happened?" I ask, turning around to see where Auster went.

"Nothing."

"That scowl is for more than nerves, more than just training tomorrow. Why did Auster stomp off from here?"

"You don't want to know." There's no phrase guaranteed to make me curious more than this one. Yes, I very much want to know. I reach out to her and she shrugs me away. "You'll just be mad."

I raise an eyebrow. "At you or at him?"

"I'd rather you be mad at me," she says.

"So, him." That's easy. I'm already kind of pissed at him. He's an easy kid to dislike.

Wiress sighs, she sounds much more tired than I would like before her first training day. "I took care of it. Don't say anything." I reach for her again and this time she lets me take her hand. "He's just a jerk. And he'll be dead soon."

She looks up at me, studying my face. She seems to make a decision based on what she sees there, and drops my hand in favor of leaning into my arms. I hold her, trying to ignore the thought that I might never get to hold her again, that she might also be dead soon.

"He tried to kiss me. Or...I guess he did kiss me. But he won't do that again." I will myself to appear calm in front of her, because I do want to kill this kid now, he shouldn't mess with my mentee, whether it's Wiress or anyone. I take care of these children under my protection. They're safe up until they enter the arena. At which point, they die horrible deaths.

"Are you sure he won't?"

She nods, I can't see it but I can feel it. "I got him pretty hard. Kneecap to the crotch."

"Good girl," I whisper. I send her off to sleep with reminders of the training routine we worked out, as well as a kiss on the forehead.

_Wiress_

All of the prep goes by too fast. I'm trying to soak in as much of life, as much of Beetee, before I enter the arena, but it's like the blink of an eye. I don't have a moment to just _breathe_. Every night he says goodnight, and I just want to grab him by the shoulders and make sure he knows, _I'm doing this for you_. He knows I'm fighting for Nik and I'm fighting for myself, but I don't think he knows how much is for him. He doesn't know that the thought of him is what will keep my heart pumping in that arena.

The night before my interview, Beetee takes me to the roof for a view of the capitol. He finds the bugs quickly, but with strategic placement and the rush of the wind, we will be unheard. "I'm going to live, Beetee." I don't think I have emotion in my voice anymore, I think in the past few days, I've been drained of every single thing that makes me, me. The one thing I am sure of is that I'm going to get out of this alive.

"I believe you." He says. "But winning gives you a different life. It's not much better than dying." I shake my head.

"Anywhere I can be with you is much better than dying." I touch my pendant. The gamemakers have accepted it as my token, after deciding the key wasn't sharp enough to do anything. I'll have its comforting weight in the arena.

We both stay facing outward, enjoying the view. Neither of us can speak this honestly while making eye contact. I feel entirely too much. All of my feelings for him could overtake me and just rush out. I could make things awful and more difficult than they are. I can't tell him I love him when I might just die a few days later. I can't do that to him. So I don't look at him.

"This complicates a lot of things." Beetee says. He sounds very upset, like he's holding back tears. "There are things that need to be left unsaid right now. Things I'm afraid I will never get the chance to tell you." My entire life is in focus at this moment. Our emotions are crystal clear to me. He loves me, too. Someday, if it weren't for these Games, we'd be having a similar conversation face to face. The unsaid things would be said. He'd give me a different piece of jewelry. Someday, we wouldn't be twenty three and sixteen, we would just be adults, someday we'd be safe from the Capitol and have our own family. I was reaped and now that whole little dream is gone.

"Those unsaid things," I tell him, "me too. You know that, right?" He makes a sound that could either be a sob or a chuckle. I refuse to look at him to find out. His hand is next to mine on the railing, and he curls his pinkie over mine. We stand there for ages, barely touching. When we do move, I guess it's to go inside, but I'm taken over by wild impulse. "Oh, fuck it", I mutter, and press my lips to his. He wraps his arms around me, so immediately responsive to my kiss that I'm convinced he was about to do it anyway. I've thought about kissing him pretty much my whole life. I imagined and plotted and planned, but now that it is happening, my thoughts go blank. It's just sensation, just feeling, until we split apart. My hand is in his, and he squeezes it.

I pull it away when the elevator doors open. From now on, there's no touching. Nothing happened. It's an unspoken agreement about our unsaid thing. That was just for us. Not for the cameras, not for Elisa, not for anyone else. We can talk about it when I get out of there. Because I _will_ get out of there.

_The 57_ _th_ _Annual Hunger Games_

The tributes rise to the platforms, and the timer begins. The arena is a jungle, the cornucopia set up in a small clearing. There's a cacophony of animal sounds and rushing water. The gong sounds and the bloodbath begins. Some tributes run towards the cornucopia, some run away, but one, Wiress Parsons from District 3, runs parallel. She's far enough away from the main action that the careers are busy with closer prey, but she focuses on one of the prey who is dashing away from the cornucopia with one of the valuable bags. She's graceful as she drops into a crouch, leg sweeping under the boy, sending him tumbling. She snatches up the bag, and runs into the jungle. She's quickly forgotten by the career alliance forming at the cornucopia, by all except their least likely member, her district partner.

The next few days have several kills by the career alliance, but surprisingly, many tributes die by simply being in the wrong spot. Someone has set up deadly traps, nooses made of vines, spears sharpened from branches, everything set with pulleys and weights and counterweights, eager to be released with one fatal misstep. The careers end up in the path of several, shouting out when anyone sees something suspicious. No one saw the sharpened branch that pierces the neck of the District 2 girl. No one noticed the vine that pulled a heavy tree limb to fall on the boy from District 4, crushing his skull. After those kills, though, they know who they need to target. They set their sights on Wiress, looking to Auster from District 3 for information. He hates the girl, calls her a nerd and a tease and plenty of other, much worse, things. He's eager to be the one to make the kill, but he also extracts the promise that if someone else has to do it, they make it hurt. His allies have become increasingly uncomfortable with Auster's bloodlust, once the girl is taken care of, something must be done about him. He's gone off the handle.

They track the girl, see her in the jungle, and it ends up in a chase. Auster gains speed, reaching her first out of sheer, perverse, anger. There's a clearing, and in the second it takes Wiress to look around, decide what direction to run, he catches up to her. "You're with the careers, Auster?" Wiress spits, keeping her knife ready, shifting on the balls of her feet in a defensive stance.

"Well I wasn't going to waste my time saving your crazy ass, was I?" Auster moves his blade, showing her that he knows how to wield it.

"You're the one who needs saving." She bends her knees, ready to dart towards him with the knife or away for safety.

"We've made an agreement, the careers and I," his smile is cruel and ugly. "Whoever gets you, they have to make it last and make it hurt." He clenches his empty fist, there's blood underneath his nails from previous kills. Wiress keeps her distance. "What do you plan to do with me?"

As Auster keeps her talking, an ally, the boy from District 5, has circled the clearing, ready to attack Wiress from behind. Provided Auster can keep her attention, he will have no barriers to her vulnerable back.

Auster laughs. "We'll give them a darn good show. All the things they like. Blood, tears, begging." He leers suggestively. "Sex sells." He doesn't need to use the actual word; tributes know some of the horrible things that happen in the arena. If Auster enjoys sexual violence, that isn't very unusual, it just makes him a more dangerous contender in the Games.

Wiress recoils from Auster as though his words physically hit her, she backs up, one hand on her face. Then her other hand moves quickly, back and up. The tribute that had been behind her hits the ground, practically gutted. Instead of being afraid, she had been aiming for that kill the whole time. The knife she's carrying drips with blood.

The cannon fires for District 5, and Wiress moves under cover of the sound. She's small and quick, and reaches the edge of the clearing before Auster can even move. She pulls some cord and dives out of the way. One of her traps hurtles out of the trees, a log that she had painstakingly stabbed with pieces of glass, steel, anything sharp she could scavenge off of bodies. The design is clever, even if Auster had been able to dodge it, the log would have shattered and the blades flown like shrapnel. As it is, the weight of the log just drives them home into his vitals. Auster's cannon fires. Wiress takes the packs off both bodies and spits on the ground. "Violence pays."

The Capitol goes wild, Wiress is immediately the new favorite. There are few pithy catch phrases in the Hunger Games, and this one is milked for all it's worth. "Sex sells. Violence pays." The slogan is found everywhere, from clothing to Games themed strip clubs. She gets lots of rich sponsors, although there are those who still think one of the kids from District 1 will still take it all.

With the new money coming in, Beetee is able to purchase the most useful gift he can find. He knows what she is capable of, knows what she can do with mechanics and what she can do with explosives. He feels sure that this gift will get her out. Wiress whispers his name when she receives the gift, it makes his heart twinge, knowing that he's giving her hope. She knows exactly what to do with the gift, knows which wires and buttons and chemicals will get her the win.

There aren't many tributes left, Wiress moves as quickly as possible in order to finish before she is found, or the gamemakers get bored. She is found once, but by a lone tribute, and she is able to take him out easily. She leaps from the tree branch she was perched on, keeping the wire she was working with in her grip. Her momentum sends the sharp wire through the skin, muscle, throat and bone of the attacker. Even Wiress is surprised by the ease with which his life is dispatched. She vomits, his body is weeping blood and viscera. She has to move the body away from her work area, it needs to be taken up by the hovercrafts, so she braces herself and moves the disgusting thing. She's so much smaller, she needs to stop every fifty feet or so. Her second trip, with the head, is quicker.

The gamemakers have held off any disaster they could create, any feast or mutt to cause destruction because the Capitol citizens are fascinated with the possibilities Wiress is creating. Everyone agrees she is brilliant, but they are evenly split between those who would like her to win, and those who would like to see her dead. Wiress finishes what she is doing with pulleys, tests a few things. It seems that she is finished. She hasn't eaten in several days, but she still has the strength to climb her tree, still has the strength to scream as loud as she can, to draw in the remaining tributes. Her trap is intricate, even the 'experts' the commentary team call in can't say for sure what it will do. All of Panem waits with baited breath for when she is perfectly ready. Her enemies circle her, and it is time to end this. Wiress pulls a vine, presses a button from her sponsor gift, and the whole area explodes. Wiress emerges from the dust and rubble, limping to the clearing where a hovercraft can find her easily. She is their new victor.

_Beetee_

There are sometimes points in the Games when all the mentors silently watch the main screen, as rapt in the action as any Capitol citizen. I'm not pleased that this time, they are all enthralled at my tribute being cornered in a clearing with her district partner. In non-career districts, partners usually form alliances, it's practically unheard of to have one directly threaten another. But this is Auster, who has a chip on his shoulder, who thinks he deserves this win, who seems jealous of Wiress' intelligence. Auster, who we found trying to spy on Wiress changing clothes on the train. Auster, who forced a kiss on her in the hallway and had to train for two days with a groin injury. Auster, whom even his own mentor, Elisa, doesn't like. She's trying to keep him alive, but she doesn't like him.

I don't think the other mentors know how Wiress rigged the clearing, made Auster think he was pushing her there when really she was guiding the showdown to the place of her choosing. None of them have been obsessively watching her screen twenty four hours of the day. I've given up all pretense of keeping my interest in her cool. I say she's my friend, and my best friend's sister, and leave it at that, although I'm sure they've made their own conclusions. I don't care. I don't think she'd care. Auster's threats make my skin prickle, there's a line that can't be crossed in the Games, it's small and far away, but it's there. Someone once ate the bodies of their kills, and he was taken out by the gamemakers. Rapes and torture happen, but only if it's a good show, not "gross". They definitely don't ask the tributes for input on what's "gross" or not. So Auster threatening to rape Wiress is a very real possibility and I am forcing my breathing to stay even. Auster's ally sneaking around causes a rush of excitement in the mentor room, but everyone wisely gives Elisa and me space. I don't know if Wiress knows she has two enemies at this moment. She looks scared.

My tablet screen shows a different camera angle than the large one on the wall, and when Wiress moves suddenly, away from Auster in fear, I can pinpoint the exact moment she lets the façade drop, and her fierce warrior face back on. She guts the enemy behind her in two efficient moves, and I wonder how I ever doubted my genius girl. She's very intuitive, she probably felt the prickles on the back of her neck before the cameras ever saw the tribute. I try not to laugh out loud and ruin the surprise, but she releases her trap, and there are gasps and even a few small screams in the room around me and I'm so proud of her. Haymitch from 12 is next to me, and he laughs. "Sweetheart, you have my bet!" Later, I realize how much my blood was humming, how much I enjoyed seeing her kill, and I think that must be what the Capitol feels like watching them. It makes me sick to my stomach, and from then on, I focus on getting Wiress home, and that's it.

_Wiress_

The hovercraft picks me up. I can't move. I'm bleeding. I'm covered in blood and I don't know how much is my own. My ears are ringing. Someone is speaking and I don't know what they want because I can't hear properly. I try to speak but my mouth is dry and my lips don't want to open. "Beetee" I croak. He could help me. Beetee will take care of me. Why won't the blood stop, why won't they save me? Someone covers my mouth, and I'm drowning in blood.


	4. Chapter 4

_Beetee_

I've been waiting for hours by the time they finally let me in to see Wiress. They said she was hysterical, so she's been heavily sedated, even past what they used for her surgeries. When they let me in, she's been cleaned up, no tubes, she just looks asleep. I pull a chair over to the bedside. "Wire, if you can hear me, it's Beetee. I'm here, love." I feel silly talking to someone comatose, but it's supposed to be helpful. I really want her to open her eyes, give me proof that she isn't dead. I keep worrying that this is a dream and I will wake up in the control area with the other mentors, watching Wiress be torn apart. I lean my elbows on the bed and jam my hands over my eyes, trying to block out the bad images. I've imagined a million deaths for her. After my parents died, she forced her way into my life. She was no longer just Nikola's little sister, she became my confidante, and a friend in her own right. As much as she helped me, she also gave me one more thing to worry about. Another loved one for them to hurt. I used to have plenty of nightmares where the Capitol got her and Nikola. When nothing happened, I hoped that we were free. Of course we weren't. The Capitol was just _waiting_.

I sit up in my chair, ready to talk to Wiress again, only to find her watching me. "You're awake," I say, stupidly.

"I lived, Beetee. I'm still alive. Aren't I?" She seems a bit confused. The hospital is bleak looking, and I doubt she has any idea how she got here.

"Alive and safe, livewire." I hold her hand in mine. "Just like you promised." This seems to reassure her enough that she closes her eyes again, and falls asleep. It's natural sleep this time, though. I press the button that calls the nurse.

It's pretty cruel to force tributes out of the hospital as quickly as possible so they can get back into the limelight. Of course, cruel is means very little when you compare it to the bloody deaths of twenty three children every year. Wiress is by no means mentally stable enough to get on stage and watch the recap, but we have no choice. I know how it important it is to please the Capitol. I wish I could be on stage with her. Instead, mentors and stylists are in a special section where the camera can easily pan to us for reaction shots. I expect they will be very interested in me, if they continue trying to force a romance. I'm very glad that we never said anything out loud. There's nothing between us, just the promise that someday there might be.

These were really bloody games. We all commented on it at the time, but it's so much worse when condensed into three hours. Wiress is uncomfortable in every way, the team has decided to try to make her look more sophisticated, she's in a seductively slinky dress, and she has to sit awkwardly so it doesn't ride up. Her face is angled at the screen, but I don't think she's actually watching. Her eyes are blank, the way they look when she's miles away inside her own head. I bet she'll have a new project idea at the end of this. I wish I could transport myself away, too. The clips include every single death, and there weren't any that were pretty. No one froze, or even starved this year. Everyone was crushed or gutted or stabbed. And Wiress got the most kills in this game. More than any career, and actually more than how many the careers as a group took out. I'm not sure if even Wiress knew which kills were hers, So many traps were ignored for days before they sprang on someone unprepared. They make a fuss over Wiress whispering my name when she receives her sponsor gift. Of course I'm the one who sent it to her, I'm her mentor. It's a silly distortion of the facts, but I hate how close they've come to the truth anyway.

The second the recaps end and I'm allowed to move, I race backstage to find her. She's standing there, lost and alone. The slinky dress is even more ridiculous looking on someone that scared and wide eyed. I pull her into my arms. "You did well, Wiress. One more day, that's all" Except then there's the victory tour, and then mentoring and the rest of your life owned by the Capitol. That's all. She's shaking, and I hold her tighter and kiss her hair.

The styling team finds us and we get back home. Wiress is completely 'absent', not the distracted that I'm used to. I make hot chocolate and bring it with us to her room. There are deep plush chairs by the window, perfect for a personal chat. "I need to change. I need to get out of this horrible thing." She sounds robotic, but she can handle finding clothes and she disappears into the bathroom, so she must be somewhat alright. I look down to find that my hands have been clenched into fists so tightly that there are grooves in my palm from my nails.

Wiress emerges from the bathroom looking more herself. The heavy makeup has been scrubbed away, and the leggings with a tunic are similar to what she often wears around her house. She sits on the loveseat, and chews her lip. "Please sit with me?"

I move to the loveseat. I will always be there for her, be her best friend, but I have no idea where we stand as a man and a woman. I don't know what we plan on acknowledging and what we plan on ignoring. I know I love her. I had just thought there was time. I thought we could reach her nineteenth birthday with a sigh of relief for not being reaped, and I could broach the subject slowly. I never intended to be a pervert lusting after a sixteen year old girl. Sure, there's nothing actually wrong with it, she's considered an adult by Panem, past the age of consent. But there's legal-wrong and there's being a good person. Some of the thoughts I think about her make me think I'm not that good of a person. The amount of skin to skin contact this loveseat forces me into makes me uncomfortable. I think she notices my hesitation and worry, because her eyes get very sad. "Do you hate me now?" she asks quietly.

"Not even a little bit." I turn in the couch to face her. This way I can look her in the eyes, hold her hand, and solve the body contact problem, all in one. "I'm not sure exactly what you're asking about, but I can tell you that I'm proud of your behavior in the Games. You were a survivor and you fought. You made it out." You made it out to me, for me, I leave unspoken.

"I killed." Her eyes fill up with tears. This is actually a good sign. She's not blank and empty anymore. "I killed a _lot_ of people, Bee." She takes some shaky deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. "They were _not_ pretty kills." They definitely were not. But they were necessary kills, and they weren't barbaric. She did what she had to do, and you should never regret surviving. Those are all things I plan to tell her when she is more capable of listening. For now, I just tell her I don't hate her, and I let her cry. When the tears are done, and all that's left are big sobs that gulp air, I bring her some water. She takes it tentatively, "This is water?"

"Yes, is something wrong? There are juices if you prefer…" She waves off my question.

"Just water" she murmurs to herself. "Clear, fresh water." She ends up closing her eyes before she takes a sip. She seems relieved. "It _is_ water. Good."

I'm silent. This deserves an explanation. She sees me and tries to shrug it off. When I still don't speak, she says, "It looked like blood for a moment there. Like there was blood in the water. But there wasn't. That's all. It's fine."

She leans against me, on the loveseat. I'm past the point of caring about us touching, we're both getting so much comfort from it, it can't be bad. "I see blood a lot. Where I know there isn't blood. I try to ignore it."

I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry, so I take a sip of her water. "I hear screams sometimes. When I'm about to fall asleep. I hear the screams of the boys I electrocuted, and I know I won't be able to get any sleep that night."

"So I'm not crazy?" Wiress leans her back against my chest. It feels so natural, her head tucking right under my chin, my arms sliding around her shoulders.

"Just traumatized, Wire. You've been through a lot." I realize I've started gently stroking her arm without meaning to. She sighs, and sounds restful, so I keep doing it. I've started thinking that I would do anything for this girl.

Wiress snuggles slightly, resting further back against me. "You're the only thing I'm sure of anymore, Beetee," she says sadly. I stop stroking in order to hold her tight, tight so she feels safe and secure.

"I'll always be here for you."

She nods. "But also, I know how I feel about you. I know that has nothing to do with the Games."

I'm so glad that she's facing the other way at this moment. I am so glad that she can't see how close to tears I am. I don't know what to say in response, all the possibilities are still running through my head when she moves slightly, and I see that she's asleep. I sit there for a while before I lift her into her bed and leave.

The next day is the interview, and I really hope this goes well. We've prepped and practiced some likely questions all day, and I think she has enough noncommittal phrases in her arsenal that she can handle it without breaking down. There's a buzz on my intercom. It's Wiress' stylist, Fisk. "Beetee, can you talk some sense into this girl? She listens to you."

His attitude is tempered by affection for Wiress, so I skip scolding him and just ask. "What's the problem?"

"Just come down and talk to her. _Please_."

I sigh and head down. Everything is in chaos down here, lots of people running around with all sorts of crazy things, it's hard to believe that the show is two people in chairs, with no set. I rap my knuckles on the dressing room door. "Finally!" Fisk opens the door dramatically. "She hates her outfit. Refuses to wear it!"

"Then don't make her, easy solution." He gasps and looks affronted. Fine. I'll try to talk to her, I guess. Wiress is on a stool in front of a mirror, a long rack of dresses in front of her. She has her jaw set stubbornly, and seeing me doesn't change her expression. I raise my eyebrow, and she raises the dress, what there is of it. It's backless and so low as to practically be frontless. Short. Not much on the sides, either. "She's not wearing it, Fisk." Her face relaxes.

"I'm fine with other stuff here," she says softly. "I like the grey one."

"That's for a younger girl," Fisk tells us. "Someone more innocent and childlike. That's not the angle we're taking with you."

"I'd really like to try it on." Wiress pleads. I slip out while they negotiate. Wiress is already worried that the Games have changed her irreparably, there's no reason why they need to make it worse by dressing her up like a doll instead of as herself. It's maddening. I join Elisa in our seats, and wait for the show to begin.

Caesar Flickerman walks out first, waving and blowing kisses. The man doesn't seem to age, but who can actually tell under all that makeup? He's going with a pink theme right now. He introduces Wiress, and out she walks, taking my breath away. She won the argument, apparently, she got to wear the grey dress. It looks amazing while still looking like her. There's a poufy skirt and it emphasizes just how delicate boned she is. Wiress waves and gives a small smile, just like we practiced. Not proud or arrogant, but not scared and timid, either.

A lot of time is spent on Wiress's traps, and she's brilliant at talking about them. Her love for her work shines through, and the audience likes her, even though I doubt they understand her. Closer to the end, Caesar brings up our non-romance. "Last time you were on this stage, you had no comment about a possible romance with your mentor, Beetee Tesla." The audience hoots. "Well, now that there's a future ahead of you, do you have anything to say?"

I keep my face passive, sure that it's being projected on one of the big screens. "Of course I'm very close to Beetee," Wiress says calmly. "We've been friends forever. So I think some people were upset that he was my mentor and thought he prepared me, so they started rumors. But we never prepared before the reaping. I was very surprised to be reaped." That's right, livewire, turn it into a different scandal. Make them talk about something else. She does really well, so much so that I allow myself a moment's distraction at how beautiful she looks in that dress, her hair in soft curls, a smile on her face. She really is absolutely lovely. The rest of the interview is meaningless chitchat, and Wiress has prepared meaningless answers. What she likes about the Capitol, what she misses from home, what she looks forward to on the victory tour. We stressed the importance of keeping everything short. If she can get through a short sentence without drifting off, Caesar can fill in the chatter.

I don't run backstage this time, I saunter back after I know the prep team has reached her. I want her to have her moment of glory with Fisk, want him to have to say her dress choice was right. When I arrive, Wiress spots me and gently pushes past everyone to get to me. Her eyes are bright and eager. "How did I do?"

"Perfectly. As I expected." We're called over for a group picture. The styling team crowds a bit, trying to fit into the frame, and I place my hand on Wiress' lower back so we don't stumble. I hope the contact doesn't give me a goofy smile on my face. I am trying very hard to be serious. Afterwards, Wiress keeps her eyes on me, as if expecting me to say something more. We walk back to the elevators together, my hands in my pockets. She's not sure what to do with her hands, keeps clasping and unclasping them.

"Did you see my necklace?" I hadn't, but now, close up, I see the key to my workshop dangling from her neck on a delicate chain. I expect that it's going to be the latest fashion craze in the Capitol, along with the sloganed shirts they've already been selling. These games will have a lot of popular merchandise. They really like the bloody ones. I stall my response by stepping on the elevator.

"It's your token, of course you wore it."

She exhales a frustrated puff of air. "I wore it because it's from _you_."

I don't think I'm physically capable of having this conversation right now. I stare at the floor numbers, willing them to go faster. We only need to get to three. When the doors open, she blocks my path. I'm stuck in the elevator doors with them 'ping'-ing angrily at their inability to close. "You aren't allowed to ignore me, Tesla. I'm in your life now, so you're going to have to talk to me sometime."

I close my eyes. "Yeah." She moves out of the way, and I lead her to my room. We are _not_ having this conversation in a public room. I close the door behind us, and face her. It's not fair that she's still wearing that dress and looking perfect. I like this suit, but I don't think I'm turning any heads, and I very much want her head to turn. Wiress crosses her arms and waits for me to speak. "Okay, well, you kissed me in a moment of great stress. It was a very nice kiss, but I understand it didn't mean anything. Don't worry about it."

She keeps her arms crossed. 'That's how you want to play it? Just in the moment?" She sounds like she's disgusted with me, and I hate that.

"No." My voice is quiet, and I'm not sure, at first, if she's heard me. When I open my eyes, she's dropped her arms, and her face looks vulnerable. Like she's been allowed to hope. "No. You know how I feel."

She puts her hands to her face. "No, I don't! I only have…" She drifts off, and I think I might be off the hook, but she has the crease on her forehead that shows she's concentrating hard to keep her brain on one thought. "…an idea of our things unsaid. I know how I feel, though. I've loved you since I was a little kid, tagging along while you played with Nik."

"You have?" I knew she had a crush, but I thought… I thought it was more recent. She nods.

She is so close to me now. She takes my hand and holds it between both of hers. "I was in love with you when _I_ was a child, when _you_ were a child, when you got reaped, when you were in that arena, when you came home again. I took care of you in your darkest time out of love for you. Some people might try to write this off as a crush, but I knew that someday, we could be together, and I don't see why it can't be now." The crease on her forehead is still there, she is struggling, and that just proves how much this means to her.

I really don't have any defense against this. I'm twenty three years old, and the woman I love is telling me that she's been in love with me all her life. How in all of Panem could I be asked to turn this down? "I love you. I thought you were too young, so I kept it inside. I wanted you to mature without my influence, and see if you could possibly want me then. "

"The Hunger Games have a way of maturing you quickly." She says, a grimace on her face. "I have grown up a lot since I killed, what, seven or eight people?" I don't tell her it was more like eleven. She has enough to fuel her nightmares already. "I'm a grown woman, like it or not, Beetee. If, as a man, you love me, then tell me. If you don't, then you don't. But I'm not too young to act on my feelings."

Wiress is in a fighting posture, ready to take on any excuse. I don't have any more. I can't think of any excuses to not do exactly what I want at that very moment, which is to kiss her, right now, while she looks so gorgeous and she's in my bedroom. She's surprised when I touch her mouth, but she kisses back right away, loops her arms around my neck, matches the pressure of my lips. I don't remember moving, but I am holding her around her waist, pulling her tight against my chest. This happens a lot around her. If I stop thinking for a moment, if I just let my instincts be in charge, I get closer and closer to her. I don't want to fight it anymore. Wiress' eyes are still closed when the kiss ends, her lips curled into a smile. "Everything's quiet when I touch you. Everything is beautiful." She finally looks at me, happiness in those blue eyes. She runs her hands over my chest to hold the lapels of my suit. "Handles," she jokes. We stay like that for a few minutes, standing and looking at each other. It's similar to when we work together, we both need time to process new information, to understand a new situation and rewrite everything else around it.

"I'm starving." She says abruptly. "I couldn't eat before…"

"The interview? Because of nerves?" Wiress shrugs.

"Nerves, worried I'd throw up on Caesar, whatever." I open the door for her. "I need to change. Fisk will kill me if I stain this dress. He's letting me keep it, to wear again."

"There's no way he'd let you wear something twice for cameras. He must have realized that it suits you. It's a real life dress, not a camera dress." She makes a silly face at me.

"I'll wear it in the workshop. For you." She ducks into her room. "See you in the dining room."

_Wiress_

He's finally letting go of his martyr complex and letting himself love me. Letting me love him. I never see blood on him. He's the one uncorrupted memory I have and I'm hoping that going home will find me more, that things from before the Games can't be tainted but I'm so worried that everything will be broken and dirty and bloody and awful forever. Beetee has never been any of those things. He's the silence, the calm, the peace. He's like rain on your face. Wakes you up. Makes you feel alive. Sometimes I'm worried that I'm not actually alive. Not anymore. Maybe I died in the Games. I need to change my clothes, don't I?

There's a side zipper in the dress, convenient that I don't have to ask anyone to help. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever worn, and they gave me little slippers, too. I feel like a ballerina, even though I've only seen them in books, and even then only in the books we aren't really supposed to be reading but we do anyway. District Three has a lot of old books not approved by the Capitol, if you know the right people to ask. I'm one of those people, I guess.

I pick out something warm and comfy to wear, a nice slouchy sweater that fits me like a hug. I need a hug. Maybe I can get Beetee to hug me and then I won't need the sweater. I put it on anyway. Better safe than sorry. There's some blood-that-isn't-really-there near the door. It's easy to ignore because I'm riding so high from that perfect kiss. I still step over it anyway.

I am going to miss this suite when we leave, tomorrow I guess, because of all the gadgets to explore. There are machines that do lots of fun things and I want to take them apart but that gets me yelled at. I still took apart the clock in my room. It's different from the ones I'm used to, the gears are set in a very interesting way. I trail my fingers along the hallway wall as I walk, it's got flocked wallpaper that feels so funny and fuzzy. If I overload my senses with good feelings, it usually keeps bad ones away. Singing, humming, textures, and now, apparently, kissing.

Beetee has gotten an avox to bring out food, it's a little midnight feast for two. I suddenly feel shy because he might be able to see all the love I have for him in my heart and then he would be scared because it kind of scares me, it's so much and now I realize I have been sitting here for a pretty long time without saying anything to him and he might think I'm ignoring him. He just slides a mug across the table to me. It's warm and I hope it's hot chocolate but it isn't, it's tea but it still smells good and I can put milk in tea so it is very similar in a way, much like some conductors are better than others but the electricity still goes through.

"Elisa said this was 'sleepy tea'. Let's see if it works." He lifts his mug to mine in a toast. He's really really cute and this sort of thing always pulls me out of a mood, I don't usually feel sad around Beetee because he does all of these little fun things.

"It tastes like flowers," I tell him. Well, smells like flowers, but a lot of what you might consider taste is actually smell, that's why holding your nose while you eat something repellant helps. "I like it." I take one of the sandwiches, they had all different kinds, but they quickly learned that I just like lots of cheese and then they warm it up and it's gooey. Sometimes it's messy to eat but I don't honestly care because the only person here whose opinion matters is Beetee, and if he doesn't like the way I eat, we definitely can't be together because I eat at least once a day but usually more because I have to eat to live and also because I like it. I've gotten distracted again, but at least I've been eating my sandwich.

"Do you know when…?" I make a waving motion to make up for the fact that the words ran away when I tried to say them.

"We leave for home? Tomorrow after lunch. You have victory tour fittings in the morning." I smile. I like fittings, I get to stand still and no one minds if my thoughts wander, and sometimes I get them to talk to me about Capitol gadgets and sometimes they talk about their work which is actually really interesting, and it gives me all sorts of ideas for improvements in the fabric weaving, in the stitching machines, in the way a conveyor belt model of construction for a garment could be improved by keeping very precise measurements and inputting them to a laser for cutting. That way every piece could be tailor made, only the laser is the tailor. "I don't remember the train well…" I tell Beetee. I was under a lot of stress during that ride. He understands what I'm asking.

"It's a longish ride, we go across everything. Two and a half days, about. Then, we are home. We can see Nik, you move into the new house, the district gets parcel day."

"Then victory tour." I tell him, dourly. I'm not looking forward to that; it's just so gruesome with the families on stage.

He takes my hand from over the table. "It's not all bad. The speeches are bad, but the evenings are usually fun. Each district really tries to show you a good time, there's food and singing and dancing. You remember my District Three party."

"You'll…"

"Be there, yes. I'm your mentor." I give him a _look_. "You know what I mean," he responds. "There would be someone there to support you no matter what. You just happen to get someone as great as me." He smiles widely, daring me to tease him back. I leave my seat in order to take the one next to him. I need another sandwich, too. I ignore his challenge because I really do think he's great, that's not a joke but I also would have put a lot of other words in there too and I shouldn't give him a swelled head.

"Two more days trapped in close contact with you, then real life." I take a bite of sandwich while I think. I am eager for the _normalcy_ of real life, but this bit, where I'm safe, has been the only part of this adventure I can enjoy and I'm also kind of afraid that being home will break this spell with Beetee and he'll never kiss me again. That thought confuses and upsets me. He must see that on my face because now he looks worried. I'm starting to feel scattered again and he's the thing keeping me grounded. I reach out for him. He lets me grab at him even though I bet I look like a maniac and I don't want him to see me this way but I guess he has seen me worse and I bet I will be worse again because I have killed so much and all of the blood

I kiss him. Everything feels like I'm underwater in a bathtub, all the sounds are muted and distorted, you just feel weightless. He feels like being underwater, only I get the sweet release of breathing as well. I love breathing. I'm sure most people just do it without thinking but I love it. It just feels wonderful. His kiss is like breathing. I love it as much as breathing. It's as necessary as breathing.

My hands cup his face, my thumbs at his jaw line, and I can feel the muscles in his cheeks move as he kisses me. It makes me giggle, and he pulls his head away a bit. "This is funny?" he asks softly, smiling.

"You pulled me back." He waits for me to figure out which words go with the things I think. He knows I need to match them up sometimes. "Pieces of me were flying away and running away and melting away. Metaphorically." I emphasize that. I feel things differently. I have trouble communicating. But I'm not crazy. I know when something I say sounds strange. "You pulled me back, it was all like," I make a slurping noise. I grin so he knows that was me being silly on purpose. I'm not crazy.

"I think I know what you mean." He laughs quietly. "You do the same for me, actually." He reaches up to touch my hair, runs his fingers through a curl, then down the line of my neck. I'm surprised by the longing that gives me, how much I want him. I don't think he intended that at all.

"I'm going to go to sleep." I stand. I should really leave before my feelings make me act reckless. He insists on walking me to my door, and that's really silly because it's only a few feet away and his door isn't much further but it's also really sweet because it's what a gentleman does and I read it as the one thing he can do for me in this moment. I press a quick and relatively chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Goodnight."


	5. Chapter 5

_Beetee_

The train we get as a victor party is much nicer than the ones all tributes get. Everything is light and airy, peaceful and quiet. It's everything a victor's mind usually isn't. We boarded this afternoon, a bit of an ordeal because Fisk and his team have sent clothes with strict instructions on when and where and how to wear them, along with an extra bag of clothes just for Wiress purely out of affection for her; and because there are so many gifts being sent, from Capitol citizens. Mostly flowers, but also some expensive things that we turn away immediately, and a few marriage proposals, which Wiress turns down immediately. Being on the train with nothing particular to do feels strange to me. I don't have any materials with me to work, I don't have anything to plan, and in fact I feel bored and a bit aimless. Elisa and the escort are gossiping like crazy, and I go searching for some intelligent, if scattered, conversation. I don't find Wiress right away, I even peered out to the observation deck once without seeing her, but there she is, sitting on the floor watching Panem speed by.

I sit near her. I don't want to ruin the silence. "Today's been a rough day," she says, eventually. "Since I got on the train."

"Are you seeing more blood?" I ask. It seems to be the most upsetting symptom of her stressed mind.

"Some. But I know it's not real. So it isn't that bad. What I hate is…"

I don't know how to finish her sentence. I rub her back a little. She's been sitting in the sun and she radiates a lovely heat. "I hate how confused I get." She turns to me. "I have a difficult time knowing what's real or not. I get these dreams and then these things that are like dreams but I'm awake, and it all feels _real_." She grips my arm. "I don't know if this one is real." She looks terrified, and I don't blame her. It sounds awful. "I think if everything else was the same, all of it, but the one thing that wasn't real is you loving me, all of it would be horrible." She bites her lip. "I just feel like you're the constant, like when you look at stars."

"The North Star." The North Star stays constant, the others move. You can always find your way by watching the North Star. We don't get to see the stars very often in District Three, too many lights and too much smoke, but the few times we have, Wiress has been enthralled. She read everything about them she could get her hands on after that. I'm touched that she thinks of me this way.

"You're more like the Aurora Borealis." I tell her. We've never seen that in real life. Just pictures in books. "Rare and difficult to see, but the most beautiful thing in the world. And I don't understand how it works." I smile as I say the last bit, trying to lift her spirits. She does smile back. It's weak, but she's here instead of blank. "You're in the only sunny spot." I nudge her with my shoulder. "Can we go inside?"

We head to my room without discussing it. We want to be alone. Nik is the exception, but we always seem to be happiest when it's just the two of us. It's less of a struggle for Wiress to talk; we are each at our most comfortable. She tells me about some of the mechanical ideas she's gotten from the styling crew, starts to draw them out, and we are happily busy until dinnertime. Our Capitol escort is one of the few who are on the quiet side. She's yellow, very yellow, so maybe she thinks her appearance speaks loudly enough. Her name is Gunny and it's short for something that she prefers to go by, but none of us can pronounce. Gunny and Elisa keep up most of the dinner conversation, but Wiress is really trying. She's focused and answering questions, even if she can't always finish the answer and looks to me for help. I am pretty good at knowing what she wants to say, but a few times I just say something acceptable, because it's better than forcing Wiress to try to chase down a thought in front of other people. I think mostly in words, but not Wiress. She is completely different and when she wants to express her thoughts, she needs to translate them into words first. That's where the trouble and effort comes in.

Wiress joins me in my room again after dinner. She gathers up the papers she was sketching on this afternoon, working out her machine ideas, and places them in a folder so she won't forget them. Then she leans against the table, looking at me. She's a study of contrasts, pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes, delicate bones, strong will. I don't have the right words to tell her how she makes me feel. I kiss her instead. She's passionate tonight, kisses me back roughly, holding me almost desperately to her body. Her fingers curl under my collar, stroking my neck. Her hips press into my sides. I'm not able to hide what I feel from her, and she presses herself against the evidence very deliberately. My hands are at her waist, and I slip them over the bare strip of skin under her shirt. She's warm. The kissing is definitely desperate now, and she hops slightly to sit on the table, legs on either side of me. She's insanely attractive and pressing against me, and loves me, and I'm in heaven. She leans her head against my chest, breathing heavily. "I need to stop. This is…"

"Too much?"

She shakes her head. "Too quick." I move to step away from her, but she holds me there. The passion is evaporating into the air, but there's still closeness. Her touch is still comforting.

"I know what I want. It's been you, in no uncertain terms, for a very long time. I want you. But this…?" she waves her arm to indicate the room, the train, the situation. "Not…right."

"Are you a virgin?" I ask. She nods, unashamed. "Does it bother you that I'm not?"

"Not particularly." She's become engrossed in the texture of my shirt cuff, running her fingers along the lines. It's just one of her little quirks, but the feeling of her fingers tracing my wrist is very sexy under these circumstances. I try to stay cool.

"Your first time doesn't have to be on a moving train. We can do better than that," I tell her. Wiress shrugs.

"Virginity…" She pauses, shakes her head. "Just a concept. It's not real. Not important. But we've been," she's searching for the right word. Her lips move as she chooses and discards the wrong ones. " _outside_ of time, of normal life. I want you, but I want you for always. I need to see that." She's very right. Real life can get in the way of a lot of things. I kiss her quickly, assuming she'll leave.

She tilts her head, examining me. "Can I trust you," she shakes her head. Those weren't the words she wants. Of course she can trust me. "Can you handle it, if we stay together tonight? Hold each other?" She's kind to ask. Asking if it would be too difficult shows she cares.

"I'd like that," I tell her. We climb into the bed. It feels better, warmer, with two. Wiress sleeps slightly curled, and I stretch around her, holding her close to my heart. I know she likes heartbeats. The pattern, the constancy. We fall asleep pretty quickly.

I open my eyes in the morning to blue eyes over my face and gentle laughter. "Wire," I murmur, not quite awake yet.

"I forgot for a moment," she says dreamily. "Woke up and I'm in your bed and I had to _remember_." She kisses me lightly. "Wake up, please."

I sit up, amused by her request. "I'm up. I'm awake." I _am_ awake and suddenly very aware of her lack of a bra. She's in a good mood, playful, and we spend a good hour lying there saying nonsense and touching each other. It's the best morning of my life. We spend this day a lot like the last one, talking, drawing plans for machines, the occasional kiss. I get into her bed this night, wrapping my arms around her comforting body. She has nightmares, and her little scared sounds must have entered my dreams, because I do too. I have one where I set off my electrocution trap only to discover, too late, that I've electrocuted Wiress, her face crumpled in agonizing pain. I wake up, and hear her whimpers.

"It's a nightmare, livewire, wake up." I kiss her forehead, her cheek. "Wake up, please," I echo her words from this morning. Her eyes snap open, staring at me but still caught in the dream. Then they focus, and she's back in there. She's awake now. She takes several deep, calming breaths.

"Thank you." She rests her head on my chest, taps a finger in time with my heartbeat. "We're almost home."

"Yes." She looks up at me. I can tell she's worried. "You should move next door to me."

"I never understood why you took one with no one around. You could have been next to Elisa or Marks."

"Yes, and be best friends and have sleepover parties." She rolls her eyes at me. "I spent all my time at your house, anyway."

She reaches up to play with my hair. "We could dig a tunnel to connect our houses. Secret underground passageway." I laugh.

"Nik would just guard it so you couldn't slip over at night." We laugh, but I realize that I have no idea how Nik will react. He's been through hell watching his sister in the Games, worse than me because he was powerless, couldn't even send her sponsorship gifts or watch her unless the Capitol chose her film to air. He's had a lot to go through before he even begins to think about his best friend getting together with his little sister. She's clearly thinking about this too, because her body has gone stiff and awkward.

"He's a good brother. Wants me to be happy." She meets my eyes. "If he's mad, he will come around."

"I know. I don't want to cause trouble between you"

"I won't hide this," she interrupts. "Not like in the Capitol. You are good for me and good with me. You aren't…."

"A secret?"

"A dirty secret." She shakes her head. "This relationship is _good_. We will act like it is _good_. People will respond accordingly." She is very stubborn, and I'm tired of hiding and pretending things too.

We do get some sleep, eventually, and the train pulls into District Three on schedule, mid morning. There's fanfare as we step off the train, some cameras, lots of friendly faces, but no Nik. No one for Wiress to hug. She's standing awkwardly, and I do the only thing I can think of, which is to take her hand and lift it in the air, showing District Three their victor. It brings the cheer I hoped for, and I feel confident that the Capitol has a shot they'd like, one that won't embarrass Wiress. Gunny takes the spotlight, answering questions, and Wiress and I slip out of the crowd. Elisa is overseeing the bags.

"Let's just go to your house. Maybe he wanted a quiet reunion." She nods, but she's shaking. I'm sure she's thinking of my family, gone forever because I won the Games. I'm trying very hard not to think of them. Her house is dark and quiet. The living room is empty. She runs upstairs, with me right behind her. Nik is there, sitting and waiting, alive but not looking like himself.

"Nik!" She cries, and throws herself at him, meaning to be in his arms, but he doesn't move. She hugs him anyway. "What's wrong?"

"I need some time. I just," He wets his lips. "I just don't recognize you as my sister." She flinches. "I love you, I do, it's just that…I've seen you kill, now."

"I'm still me. Still Wiress." Her voice is small. Nik shakes his head. His eyes look haunted, but he's firm in his resolve.

"I'm a killer too, Nikola. You stayed my friend." I step next to Wiress, staring him down.

"How many of your kills did you cut the intestines out of, Beetee?" He's referring to the boy who likely would have _raped_ Wiress before killing her, and I clench my fists, trying to dispel my anger. "I don't remember, in your Games, did you ever _decapitate a child with a wire_?" He spits the words out. I can't look at his face. I turn away so I won't hit him, won't hit my best friend in his face, and I see the empty bottles of liquor.

"Wire, let's go." I take her hand. "We'll talk again tomorrow, Nik. Sober up for that, okay?" I have to pull Wiress a little because she doesn't want to leave. "Please, Wiress. He isn't himself right now."

"Wiress isn't Wiress right now!" Nik shouts. The sudden noise makes Wiress jump, and she edges towards me. "My sister doesn't wear fancy dresses and talk to Caesar Flickerman about how to set traps for human children!"

Wiress meets my eyes, nods. I let her go down the stairs ahead of me. "Shape up, Nik," I tell him. "She needs you."

"Why? She has _you_." He shakes his head at me. "It's easier for you to take advantage of her if she doesn't have anyone else."

I leave. His words hurt, but I know they aren't true. He probably knows they aren't true, underneath his fear and hurt. Wiress is in their kitchen, arms propped up against the counter, crying. I hold her. It's all I can do. There aren't words to fix that sort of thing. She takes a few items from her room before we leave, most of the things she owns that she cares about are already in my workshop, but she has some clothes and books she likes, some jewelry of her mother's. The items from the train are already delivered to my house, waiting for her to pick an empty house for her own, but she just drags the bags into my living room.

"I can't today," she says. "No energy." I agree. Being upset that much is really exhausting. We take the bag of clothes upstairs, and it fits in the closet with my things like they belong there. Like she fits and belongs in my life. She looks around my room. It's been ages since she's been in my bedroom in my house, definitely not since I started thinking of her as a woman rather than a child. It's very nice to have her here. She crosses back to me. "I'm upset." She runs her hands up my arms, around my neck. "Not emotionally… ready and able…for sex. But. I need…" She trails off. I'm not sure she even knows what she needs. She buries her face in the crook of my neck. I'm very aware of her, I can hear her heart pound and feel her eyelashes as she blinks against my neck.

"There are other things we can do," I say. "We can touch without sex." She lifts her head and nods, gives a sexy smile. I think she was hoping for this invitation. I kiss her, gently moving my lips against hers, opening her mouth for my tongue. She responds eagerly, I slide my hands from her waist over her backside, hold her so her hips angle against mine and her firm bottom is in my hands. I break my mouth away from hers to trace my lips along the line of her jaw, the strong pulse at her throat, the hollow at the base of her neck.

I plan on loving this woman forever. I want to show her how I feel.

_Wiress_

I know I want Beetee. I also know it's a bad idea. I'm emotionally compromised. More than usual, I mean. So I am ecstatic when he agrees to touch me, to love me, without actual sex. I don't want to tease him, don't want to ask for more than he can give, but I just can't sleep alone tonight. I can't spend the rest of the day frustrated because his body isn't up against mine. He kisses and licks my neck. It is wonderful. I feel pleasure throughout my body, not just where he's touching. I wonder how that works. I'm not too familiar with the nervous system, but there are many ways to fool it. I arch my back so my breasts press into him. He needs to want me, too. He needs to feel some of what I'm feeling because the two of us together is what is so wonderful.

He pulls me over to the bed, and there's some fun maneuvering so that he's on top of me without putting his weight on me. "My Beetee," I whisper. He's set me on fire. I'm wild for him. He's kissing me and making me feel alive and present and I'm not thinking anything at all which is _perfect_ but then I think about how my stupid skirt is stopping me from curling my legs around his legs properly, and his shirt is muffling the strong comforting beat of his heart. "I need to…" I gently press on his chest, and he is off me in a second. It's wonderful and reassuring to know that he would stop immediately if I asked him to, but I want him to know that's not what I mean right now.

I unzip my skirt, pull off my shirt. They both get kicked away, I don't care where. His eyes are big, but he isn't moving, so I take his shirt off for him. There. Much better. I press my lips over his heart. That's where his love lives so my love is in there too. My bra feels uncomfortable, so I shed that. Beetee still isn't moving and I think I may have shocked him, so I lean into his arms and kiss his neck. My tongue darts out to taste his salty skin, my hands skim his waist, slightly under the band of his pants. "Down," I murmur, pulling him to the bed with me. This wakes him up.

"So beautiful, so beautiful." He touches me, curves his hands around my breasts, kisses my collarbone. I like that a lot, and without the skirt, I can move my legs the way I like. I can feel how hard his erection is, pressing into me, and I realize the power I have over him. It's practically a revelation that I affect him this way. It takes no effort at all to keep my thoughts on him, not with the myriad of feelings he is giving me. The fabric of his pants is rough against the insides of my thighs, his lips are soft and his tongue is wet against my breasts, his hands run along my sides making me shiver.

"Wiress" he breathes. I meet his eyes. His fingers are now at the edge of my panties. "Will you take these off? I want to touch you." I think the smile I give him is positively wicked, I can't help myself. I lift my hips off the bed, taking away the fabric, and he exhales as I'm naked in front of him for the first time.

"I love you," I tell him. My eyes can tell him how much I want him, so I need to voice my love. "Love you so much. Please touch me." He does. He touches me with expert hands, precise movements that remind me how easily he works with small components of electronics, how he can guide something in place from any awkward angle. The way he's touching me has to be easier than that. I feel wonderfully full with his finger inside me, stroking me in time with his heartbeat. He knows me so well, knows that I would like that, like feeling the exquisite sensations at the same time as the comforting "thump thump". "Beetee!" I cry out.

"Yes?" He's smiling devilishly, mischief in his eyes that is fun because there's so much love there too. I trust him so completely.

"I don't even know," I tell him. He's brushing my clitoris with his thumb, just feather light touches, but it makes me jump and twitch, and I can feel the tension building. It's not like when I touch myself, it's not better or worse, but it is very different, and I have to resist the urge to catalog away the differences, I have to shut off everything and just _feel_. "More, more," I pant.

He touches me harder, faster, eyes on mine, asking me to trust him, asking me to relax and be comfortable enough around him to let go. He doesn't need to. I'm practically there. I want to show him.

There's some small change to his rhythm that is absolutely perfect, and I'm there. I see sparks as I come, I feel like I am falling, falling into nothingness except I'm also in his arms and he has me safe. It's intense, more intense than on my own because I couldn't expect it. It was sudden. I try to catch my breath as Beetee continues to touch me gently, helping me down from the mountain of sensations. I try to speak, but it comes out as odd sounds. He smiles, the kind of smile that says we've done this together, this is an experience between the two of us that we won't forget.

"You brilliant man," I gasp out. He laughs out loud. I drop my head back onto the pillow, all of my muscles feel like liquid. I don't want to move. Beetee pulls up his covers onto us, and now I am warm and sated and comfortable.

"Good?" he asks.

"So good." I touch my upper chest gently, and I'm still hypersensitive, it makes me shiver. "I can't wait for sex." He laughs again, kisses me.

"I think we'll be explosive," he says. "Absolute fireworks. Rockets."


	6. Chapter 6

_Wiress_

I feel so languid that it would be nice to sleep, but it's barely past noon, so we force ourselves out of bed. I take a shower, my thoughts are racing but they're all good thoughts, all about Beetee, so I'm not distracted. I'm able to finish and dress and meet him downstairs. Elisa and Marks are there, sitting at kitchen table. "I made coffee," Beetee offers.

I take a mug. Coffee is practically mother's milk in District Three. I like to pour in cream and watch the colors swirl, it's hypnotizing. I've never really talked to Marks, so I feel awkward and I keep staring into the coffee. Marks has dark hair and glasses. He looks a bit like an older Beetee, but his complexion is darker, looks like my coffee. I add slightly more cream to approximate the shade better.

"You're humming, darling." Elisa tells me. Her eyes are kind, but she doesn't take me very seriously. I wonder what she was like watching me kill on those screens. Did she still patronize me? She makes me feel like a child and that makes me act like a sulky child, which I guess is proving her point. I shake myself out of my thoughts.

"Sorry."

Beetee sits next to me, placing his mug near enough that I can feel the steam. Now both my hands can be warm. District Three is always cool, even though these are supposed to be the warmer months, I'm happy for warm hands. "Wiress will stay here until she sets up her new house." No one mentions that I already have a house in this District, it would be easy enough to stay there. I don't know if it's because they've heard about my brother or if it's obvious that I need to be close to Beetee. I feel awkward in my seat, but I don't want to fidget and show Elisa even more how strange I am.

Marks stares at me. "You're pretty." He doesn't say it like a compliment. 'That's going to be a problem for you."

Beetee puts his mug down a bit too roughly, splashes the table. I watch the droplets bead up on the surface; I wonder what it's treated with to repel the liquid. "We'll have to take care of her, won't we?" He says it like a challenge. I don't know what they mean but I am used to being lost in conversations by now. I try to keep my humming in my head this time. I figure Beetee will fetch me from my thoughts if I need to pay attention.

_Beetee_

I've been hoping that Elisa and Marks will work with me on this. Victors banding together, trying to keep what happened to us from happening to the new member of our little club. They just look at me wearily and forlorn, as if we're already beaten. The Capitol has used each one of us, Marks had a lucrative contract designing gadgets for a rich citizen, but it turns out he was considered more of a slave in that household, tasked with anything distasteful or humiliating. They must have tired of him, because the contract expired and he's back in his victor home here. Elisa was asked to 'escort' important politicians to events and parties; only they expected sex afterwards as well. Those dates began waning after Elisa turned thirty, and ten years later she threw a huge fortieth birthday party for herself, so ecstatic to be getting older. I lost my family. I think I would have preferred the rape, but who knows. It wasn't my choice. I want Wiress to be safe from everything and anything.

When Marks and Elisa showed up like a welcoming committee, I thought they might help come up with a plan. Elisa shakes her head at me, "What do you actually think we could do, Beetee? If there was something that could be done, don't you think we would have protected you?" I glance over to Wiress; it looks as though she's inside her head, not in the conversation.

"She's really fragile. I don't know if that makes them more or less likely to hurt her."

Elisa sighs into her coffee. "Look, here are my thoughts." I nod for her to continue. Wiress looks up, out of her daydream, and moves her coffee cup so our hands are incidentally touching. "The best thing you've got going for you right now is your romance." I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off. "I know you think you're being cool or whatever, but there's enough chemistry and enough of your behavior," she nods towards our hands, "that people want to see it. Romance is good television. You've denied it so far, but that's okay, it just whets their appetite. You spend the Victory Tour falling in love, let the Capitol see it, let them love you as a couple so the Capitol can't do anything to separate you without being the bad guy."

"That makes sense," Wiress says softly. I meet her eyes. I don't like the plan. I don't like the idea of using her, being used, of turning our feelings into something for show. She doesn't show any signs of distress, though. "If someone requested one of us for sex, people would hate them. Can't break up Panem's favorite couple." Wire and Elisa seem to be of an accord, and I'm left behind, just worried and uncomfortable. Wiress sees my troubled face, and takes my hand. "Our love is a liability, let's turn it into something useful instead."

Marks speaks up for the first time in a while. "Don't tell me that you'd do 'anything' to save her, but for some reason _this_ is where you draw the line."

"Of course not," I defend. "I'll do it, I'm just uncomfortable. Give me time to get used to the idea."

"It will work," Elisa tries to soothe me. "You have the childhood sweethearts angle, show off some pictures of you playing together as children, they'll reshow the footage of you two dancing at your victory party, they can interview us," she indicates herself and Marks, "It will give them enough to air, enough to care about, that they won't have to hurt you." I remember what a good actress Wiress was when she pretended to be scared of Auster in order to attack the career. I remember young Wiress letting them tape us dancing. I know she's practical enough that she sees this as us using them, using their greed to our advantage. I just can't shake the feeling that our love will be somehow…soiled.

Wiress gets up and brings over the coffee pot, refilling all of our mugs. She stops at Marks' side for an extra moment. "You remind me of my father." Wiress rarely talks about her parents. It's been just her and Nik for so long. I can see what she means, Mr. Parsons was quiet, usually reserved, but then would do something like pick you up and swing you around until you fell over laughing. He was a good guy. Marks focuses on his mug, refusing to look up.

"You remind me of my daughter." I didn't know Marks had a daughter. "She's a little younger than you. Dark hair. Smart. She lives in the Capitol, with her family. I haven't seen her in years." There's a tear trickling down his cheek, and Wiress places a hand delicately on his shoulder. She's a hugger, but Marks doesn't really like to touch, or be close to people. This is the sort of touch that would comfort him. Elisa nods knowingly. I guess they've been over this before; I was the young victor, the odd man out.

"See?" Elisa says. "The Capitol can make you do all sorts of things. If a couple has trouble conceiving, they can choose someone known for intelligence and survival to create their child. You don't get a say." The image of Wiress with another man's child in her belly flashes through my head, and I selfishly, jealously hate it.

'You don't have to do anything for show," Wiress says. "Just don't hide. When you want to hold my hand, just do it." I reach over and hold her hand, and she laughs at my willful misunderstanding.

"I know, I know. You don't need to keep trying to convince me. I was sold ages ago." I pull Wiress closer, wrap my arm around her waist and lean my head into her side. When she stands and I sit, she looms over me in the most comforting way.

"There's plenty of time before the tour," Elisa reminds us. "Get used to the idea."

_Wiress_

Beetee is leaning into me like he'll crumble if I'm not there. It brings me back to when I was twelve, forcing him to eat and sleep. I wish I knew what to say to make him see that this plan will work, and there's nothing wrong with letting the cameras see what is already there. I press a kiss to the top of his head to make up for my lack of words.

"We'll get going," Elisa says, standing up. "Wiress, will you walk us out?" I nod. This is the oldest code in the book, she really could have just said 'hey Wiress I want to say something without Beetee hearing let's go over here' but I guess we all have to pretend I'm just showing them where the door is because maybe it moved during the time they've been here. I squeeze Beetee's shoulder to assure him I'm coming back, and lead the way.

Elisa stops me on the porch. "He's a bit older than you, and he was your mentor. There's some power dynamic there." I nod, even though I don't agree. "Just…you don't _have_ to be with him, okay?"

"I know. I actually do love him." It's important she know this. She can't treat me like a little girl, she has to know that being with Beetee is a real decision that I have made.

"Good." She touches my arm lightly. "But _just in case_ , if at any point you feel differently, like he's forcing you into something, like you have nowhere else to turn, I'm here, okay? Even just to walk away from a fight for a few hours until you calm down or something. No judgment." She's very sweet, this is very maternal. I can't imagine a world where Beetee would hurt me, but it's nice to know someone else is looking out for me, too. "Beetee is a great guy, I'm not implying anything. But victor relationships are hard." She sounds sad enough that I wonder who she's thinking of. I didn't sense anything between her and Marks, but maybe it was some time ago.

"Thank you. It's good to feel less alone."

She leaves, and I stay on the porch for a few minutes, lost in the sunshine and breeze. It's cold, the sun really doesn't leave any warmth on my face, but it's bright. It makes me believe that I'm alive. Sometimes I'm doing something and I stop in the middle of it, not sure if I'm alive or dead, maybe this is just what death is like, and maybe I died and am in paradise because Beetee is here too, or maybe it's hell because that would mean Beetee was dead, too. I don't like the idea of Beetee dying. I'd jump back in the arena in a second to save him; I'd jump into a pit of fire. Anything. My brilliant man needs to live. There's blood on my arm and I don't know where it came from. It's real blood, not my blood-that-isn't-there. Oh. I'd been leaning against the porch railing too hard. There's a metal edge under there. I clench my fist to stop the bleeding, it's a shallow cut, the kind that looks horrible from all the blood, but is fully healed in like, a day. I probably shouldn't go back to Beetee covered in blood, though. When I'm pretty sure all bleeding has stopped, and I dab at my arm with the hem of my shirt to clean it off, I head in.

Beetee is just where I left him, staring at his coffee mournfully. The things I wish I could say to him are stuck in my throat, they've formed one big jumble and I worry that I can't comfort him. He's ridiculously handsome, I love the way his scruff shows from not shaving this morning. I want to know how it feels; I want to scratch it across my face. He makes my insides warm and melty, makes me lick my lips without meaning to. He registers that I'm standing there, and looks up. "I can't lose you, Wire." I tilt my head. Why does he think he would lose me? "We'll protect you. We have to." He stands. "I can't let them take you away, Wire." I love him so very much in this moment, more than usual, because he needs me with the same absolute rawness that I need him. He pulls me into a deep kiss, clinging to me for life. My mind really doesn't seem to wander when he kisses me, all I can think about is him and his lips and his hands and his body. Now, I am also aware of how turned on I am by him, how much I want to use my body to let him know the things I can't say. I think of him giving me pleasure earlier today, and I know what I want.

Still kissing, I turn us so he is by the wall; I press him against it in an attempt to get leverage on his mouth. His hands are on my back, but my hands touch him everywhere. I end up at the bulge in his pants, running my fingers along him, feeling his desire. When my mouth leaves his, he attempts to speak. "Wait." I tell him. "Don't say anything unless you seriously want me to stop. I will, if you need it." He shakes his head, still confused but with so much want in his eyes. I grasp at him through his pants, then slide my hands up and under his shirt, until I am touching his warm skin. I slowly lower myself until I can kiss that warm skin. There's hair running below his navel, sexy and masculine, I kiss in a line until I am pressing kisses over his pants, over his fly, along the length of his member. I can hear him gasp, a swift intake of breath that sounds like a command to me. I smile into his stomach, and undo the button of his pants. I lower his clothes slowly, meeting his eyes. I try to tell him I want this, please let me do this for you, and I think he gets the message. He's absolutely beautiful. I've never really been sheltered and I know plenty about sex and penises and what some people do with them and what others want to do. I've heard a lot of jokes about how odd looking men's penises are, but there's something primal in me that responds to Beetee in general, and I can look at him and know exactly how my body wants to fit with his. Right now, I want to take him in my mouth. I run my hands along his thighs to warm them, nuzzle my face against his legs.

"So lovely" I murmur. Then I grasp the base of his penis, circling it with my fingers. I lick him, wetting him with my saliva, showing him what I want to do. His hands are near my eye level, and I see him clench them into fists at the sensation. I lick my lips and run them along his length, kissing the shaft and head. He tastes like when I lick his neck, like salt and man and sex. I place my lips around him and run my mouth down his shaft, taking him as deep into my throat as I can comfortably. There's a natural rhythm to be found in my movement, and as I get there, he is able to go deeper and deeper until I can take him up to where my hand is. My tongue caresses him, and he's gasping, panting. He's amazingly sexy. I trace my other hand up his thigh until I feel his clenched hand, and I intertwine our fingers. We're here together, I try to say. This is for us. Him in my mouth is almost overwhelming, there are so many textures and feelings, it's as though it were a sex act designed just for me, just for what I like and what will keep my traitor brain focused.

"Wiress," he moans. "Livewire." I love when he calls me that. I love the idea of being so alive that I'm shooting off sparks. I love that he sees me as something bright but dangerous, something almost magical when understood properly. I apply a little suction, and he jerks his hips against my face. He apologizes, and I guide his hand to my head, run it through my hair, and then grasp his buttocks, holding him to me. I want this, I want it like this. Don't apologize. "Soon," he pants, "Wire, I'm going to come soon." I speed up my motions, stroke him hard, suck him rough. I show him how badly I need him. He comes, with amazing moans, his hips moving erratically, filling my mouth. It's wonderful. He's wonderful. He runs his fingers through my hair, leaning against the wall. I like the idea that I've sapped his strength, wrung him out and left him my captive. I gently remove my mouth and smile, pressing kisses against his thighs, his pelvis. When I lean back, his eyes are closed, reveling in his feelings, so I pull up his clothing, refasten it, and lean into the crook of his neck. He clasps me tight, so I reward him with little kisses on his neck.

"I liked that a lot," I whisper. "It felt so right."

I don't think he's able to speak yet, so he just squeezes my arms. His breathing is getting back to normal. He opens his eyes and gazes at me adoringly. I can pinpoint exactly when his brain starts working again, and he realizes that I just went down on him pressed against a wall in his kitchen. You can see the happy panic in his face. I use the tip of my tongue to trace the path of his throat, right where he gulps when he is nervous. It makes him twitch. I hope he's hypersensitive, like I was after my orgasm earlier.

"I don't know what I did to deserve that," he whispers. "But if you let me know, I'll keep doing it for the rest of my life." He makes me laugh. He really does. I'm so blissfully happy in this moment that I think I could just float away. There's a lot of bad stuff, there's _so much_ bad stuff in my life but right now, he makes me feel perfect.


	7. Chapter 7

_Beetee_

Wiress and I spend the afternoon and evening just relaxing, chatting, cuddling. We end up lying on the couch together, so I can run her hair through my fingers while we talk. There are times when she speaks in whole paragraphs, making complete sense, and a few minutes later she struggles to finish one sentence. Despite that, we communicate well, and have lots to talk about. I think I'm becoming addicted to her giggle, to making her smile. I keep being amazed by how brilliant she is, her brain is different enough from almost everyone else in Panem that she has all of these wonderful ideas, new interesting thoughts.

The next day, I check in on Nik. I'm mad at him, but it's the least I can do for the man who kept restocking my fridge all those years ago, who left me alone and let me grieve, but also let his twelve year old sister spend all her time with me so I wasn't alone. I need to apologize for falling in love with that sister. I bang on the door, it reminds me of Wiress forcing her way into my home, making me talk, making me eat. When Nik opens it, he looks stern, worried, but at least he seems sober. "Come on in," he says, sarcastically.

We sit opposite each other in the living room, just silent for a few minutes. I don't know where to begin; I'm not sure how my best friend turned into this sullen guy.

"How is she?" His voice is gravelly, and he refuses to meet my eyes.

"Confused. Hurt. She sees blood everywhere, has nightmares. The Games don't go away, she's going to have to relive this year after year." Please, Nik, realize she needs you, I hope.

Nik shakes his head, still staring at the floor. "They took my sister. They took my sweet innocent sister and sent back a killer in her place." He finally meets my eyes, and his are full of tears. "She killed so many people, Beetee! I don't think she had to, she could have waited some out."

I had been proud of her for being proactive. For recognizing that hiding and biding your time often just gets you killed by the arena, mutts, or the gamemakers. If she hadn't set her traps, killed all those people, I don't think she would have made it home. But I don't say these things. I let Nik be upset. Maybe he will burn out his anger.

"You wanted her to survive, Nik. She did."

"Did Wiress survive? Or was she killed by whoever the Games created? The girl who committed all that violence?" He rests his head in his hands, scowling at the floor. "She comes back, and she's murdered over ten children," Eleven, I think but don't say. She killed eleven. "And now she's involved with someone _seven years_ older than her? Beetee, she's still a kid!"

I know it isn't what he means, but for some reason, it's important to me to make the distinction. "She's no longer eligible for the Games. The government of Panem has declared her an adult."

He raises his eyebrows. "And that makes it okay for you to have sex with a girl you practically helped raise?" I rub my forehead in frustration.

"I love her, Nik; I've loved her for so long." I could give my speech about how I would have waited, but she got reaped, and so on and so on, but honestly, screw that. Intentions don't mean anything. Life is short and we love each other and we're both adults. End of story. "I love her and I treat her well and I will never hurt her, never hit her. I adore her, Nik. She's my soul mate." I want him to understand so badly. He laughs. It's not a happy sound.

"Maybe you _were_ made for each other. Maybe I'm the odd one out. Maybe I'm the only one who is bothered by the bloodshed, bothered by my best friend stealing away my sister."

"Not stealing, Nik. She wants you in her life. I'm here begging you to see her. It was always the three of us, wasn't it? Your best friend and your sister? Now, we're practically brothers…" I trail off, not sure if he's listening. My glasses are slipping down my nose, and I push them back up with the back of my hand in an awkward gesture from childhood.

"I'm not burning bridges, okay?" Nik just sounds sad now, not angry. "I don't want to see her because I'm too mad, too scared. I don't want to upset her more. I…I want to try." He begins to cry a little. "Take care of her. I hate you a little, just for now, but take care of her." He motions to the door, clearly wanting me to leave.

I get up, I want to touch him, comfort him somehow, but I think better of it and just leave. "I still love you, Nikola," I say before I close the door. "Brothers."

I come home to an empty house, which worries me at first, but then I see movement next door, and realize that Wiress is setting up her new house. She peers at me through the window and waves me over. "This one is mine." All of the houses look alike, but she's beginning to unpack some things, move around furniture. "I won't have to bother you at all hours anymore." She glances at me out of the corner of her eye.

"So I'm moving here, then?" She throws her head back in laughter, happy that I picked up on her question.

"Smart man." She throws her arms around my neck. "We have our own…"

"Space?" She nods.

"But I want us together. Is that quick? Or bad?"

"Nope." I kiss her nose. "I want it too." I tap the pendant around her neck, the one with my key. "We can both live in both. We can have some off limits space from each other. Anything you want." She smiles.

"I thought…" I wait for her to find the words. She touches one of the boxes in uncertainty. "I could make this our home. Yours is so empty." She runs her fingers over the cover of a book; it's her mother's old photo album. "Pictures on the walls, everything set up. When I'm done, we could move in here more permanently." I nod. My bedroom is clearly lived in, but everything else in my house has been left pretty spartan. I like this idea.

"Home sweet home," I whisper, meeting her lips with mine.

_Wiress_

Our lives have started to get back to some concept of normal. There's no point in trying to do regular classes at the Engineering Academy now that I have other responsibilities, and I'm not sure my newly shortened attention span could handle it either. I make arrangements to have meetings with some of the experts in their given fields to see what more I can learn from them or on my own. Truthfully, Beetee is the expert in electronics. I get everything in the house the way I like it, this project has been big enough to let myself really focus, painting and buying furniture and hanging both art and personal photos. I want my home to be a sanctuary. One day, it just feels right. It feels done. Or at least enough done to move in.

I attack Beetee as he works. He's gotten pretty used to me over the years; I don't even faze him as I cling to his back in the workshop. "Hi."

"Livewire." He finishes what he was doing and puts it aside, pulls me into his lap. "How are you today?"

"Good." I nod. "We're staying at my place tonight." He smiles.

"It's ready for us?"

"Yes." I touch his face, get lost in the feeling of my fingers over his chin, over the beard he's been growing this past month. I like it. It scratches up my mouth and maybe it's a little uncomfortable, but it keeps me focused and feeling sensations. I know it feels very, very good against my thighs. "We need to christen our new bedroom." Beetee's eyes widen.

We haven't been avoiding sex, I told him I needed time, needed to see what our lives were like together first, and he's given me that time. He didn't need to bring it up again, certain that I would let him know when I was ready and here I am, letting him know that I am ready for more than the amazing things we've already been doing, ready for more than hands and fingers and lips and tongues. I nuzzle my face into his neck. He smells so good, he smells like home. If he comes into my house, maybe everything will smell like that. Home. I move my lips gently against his throat. I love this spot, my mouth so connected to his lifeline, his pulse, his swallowing and breathing and speaking. "Oh, Wire," He breathes. He's already hard under me, and it makes me laugh, makes me happy that he's so eager, makes me wonder what I did to deserve a man like this. I can't stop myself from grinding down on him.

"Me too, baby, me too."

It's not late, we should probably be getting dinner together instead of heading to bed, but we grasp each other's hands and head to our new home. Beetee is covered in dirt and grime from the workshop, so I force him into the shower, and then decide to climb in after him. It's large enough for two, and the hot water can hit us both provided we cling to each other. That's not a problem. Each droplet of water on my face feels wonderful. I haven't been in the rain in ages, and I miss standing outside while the clouds open up. Beetee strokes my back while I hold him, murmuring sweet nonsense that soothes me, makes me calm and aware. We shampoo each other's hair, I love the feeling of his fingers massaging my scalp, it's intimate but sweet. I give him a funny hairdo with the shampoo bubbles. We are clean and rinsed and ready to get out of the shower, but he begins to touch me and I'm not going to move, not for anything, because he has me backed against the shower tile and his fingers move roughly inside me, the way he's learned I like it. He pulls a nipple into his mouth and I don't even realize I'm close to orgasm before I come, hard, right there in the shower. Beetee catches me when my knees give out, actually carries me out of the shower and wraps me in a fluffy towel. I don't know how I make it to the bedroom, but somehow I manage.

Beetee is in a matching towel, and he sits with me on the bed. In my head, I thank the Capitol for my contraceptive shot, there's nothing stopping us from being together, nothing that will keep him from loving me completely tonight. "Wire." I meet his beautiful eyes, so dark as to almost be black. They shine, oh they shine so much. They distract me for a moment, but he just tilts my chin a bit and I'm back, back to paying attention to him. "It might hurt a little, Wire." I know that but then I also know why it usually hurts and with my Games and the training and the amount I was tossed around, it might not be applicable in this situation. I just nod. "And virgins don't always get a lot of pleasure. Not the first time. But I want to make it good for you, and if it isn't, or if it's just okay, know that I will make it up to you, give you pleasure a million times after." He's wonderful. I run my hands over his chest, I love his chest. I love his body, actually. He's a little bit muscular, but nothing that intimidates me, mostly smooth skin and masculine hair and sexy, sexy spots where the planes of his body meet and you can just rest your face there and kiss him forever.

He peers at my face, to make sure I paid attention, heard his warning. "There are plenty of things that don't feel quite right the first time, Bee. I understand." He still pauses, and I take matters into my own hands, literally, by undoing his towel, and stroking him gently. He kisses me as I grasp him, our lips move in perfect harmony by now, with all the practice we've gotten. He slips his tongue between my lips, and mine greets it. I never understood tongue kissing before him, it seemed gross, but the gentle invasion of his tongue mirrors what is about to happen between my legs, and it makes me want him so much more. He removes my towel, lays me on the bed.

"Beautiful, so beautiful." It's close to what he said the first time he saw me naked, and I'm glad he still believes it. "You are gorgeous." He kisses my navel, which makes me giggle because it feels so weird. He gazes at me, I can almost feel his eyes running up and down my body. When he actually touches me with his hand, it sets off sparks of feeling, and that's just from cupping my chin. He kisses my mouth, my neck. I love his mouth on my neck, that's almost as good as oral sex, I have no idea why. His hands move lower, cradling my butt as he presses his hips to mine. He's hard. He's so hard, I'm so eager for him. He moves us slightly apart, and I whimper, but he's just moved so he can tease me with his fingers, gently inserting the tip of his index finger into me and removing it, again and again. I'm so sensitive, right at my opening. He touches my clit and I cry out. I'm eager, I'm so ready, my body is craving any kind of touch. He sucks my breasts; each nipple in turn is caressed by his tongue. "You're so wet and ready for me, aren't you?"

"If you don't fuck me right now, I will just get up and leave!" I threaten desperately. I'm completely out of patience.

"Oh, sparks. Sparks, Wiress! Don't you dare!" He smiles into my skin, pressing another kiss to my collar bone for good measure as he aligns his body with mine. We fumble a bit, it's pleasantly awkward as he fingers me and then replaces the fingers with the tip of his penis. I try not to move, but my body wants to, my hips want to jolt up and take him in completely and I know he's going slowly out of consideration for me but a frustrated noise still escapes my mouth.

"Please, Beetee? A little faster? Just…more?" He moves for me, plunges himself deep, causing a flurry of sensations. I'm full, so full, too full. He notices my discomfort, and pulls out a bit, teases at my opening like before, but with his cock. The next time he enters me fully, I've stretched, I'm more ready, and it feels just perfect. "Beetee! You're…" I can't find a good word. They all sound so bland. "…magical."

He bursts out laughing, and it feels so strange, because he's still inside me, and the vibrations of his laugh go through his whole body. "Magical?" I shrug. "Magical," he repeats. He sucks at my throat, making me squirm and moan. "I'll show you magical." The sucking is followed by his tongue lapping at the hollow of my throat, one arm keeping his weight off of me, the other caressing a breast, thumb peaking the nipple. I feel so odd, because I can't reach my clit with him at this angle, but everything else feels so good, feels so sexual, that I'm close to climaxing without it. Beetee throws his head back in concentration, biting his lip. I know he's trying to give me as much pleasure as possible. I close my eyes and just focus on feeling, not seeing, just feeling. The friction between my legs keeps building, my nipples brush his chest. My hands dig into his arms, bracing myself against his thrusts. I'm there, I can tell I'm there, and then…then I'm gone. I know I make noise, I don't know what, but it isn't proper words. I just let myself go and move however my body wants to. I'm not aware of everything that happens, I just _feel_. It's amazing. I like it much better with him inside of me. I hadn't known how much better.

I come to my senses with Beetee lying beside me, kissing me frantically. "Amazing. You are amazing," he whispers between kisses. I'm sorry that in my frenzy, I missed his orgasm. I really love to watch him. "I love you, Wire."

"I love you too, Beetee." I turn to face him, smile. I can barely move, my muscles are now extremely loose after being braced and locked into place for so long. "We need to do that all the time." He closes his eyes.

"I'll see what we can do about that." We lie there together for who knows how long before my body protests missing dinner. I'm glad I moved some of our clothes over already, Beetee throws on his pajama pants and a tee, and I steal one of his long shirts for over my panties. In this month, I've rediscovered my love of cooking, and I have both kitchens stocked with meals just ready for us to heat up once we leave the workspace or bedroom. This simple task takes a while to do because we can't keep our hands off each other. Beetee keeps watch over the food on the stove because I always seem to drift off during these moments. I usually set a timer so the angry ring brings me back. It took a while to find one that woke me up without reminding me of the gong in the arena.

I'm staring out the window at the sky where stars would be if it weren't for the smoke and soot and light. Beetee has to pull me away gently so I will sit down when the food is ready. I'm happy to bring my brain back inside my body, happy to sit across from him at the table in our comfortable domestic scene.


	8. Chapter 8

_Beetee_

When I first decided to throw a party for Wiress' seventeenth birthday, I don't think I realized how excited people would be. We both had and have friends, but we spend most of our time together. She doesn't have best friends that she hangs out with, has sleepovers with and tells secrets to. Still, the first time I am at the shops and mention a party, there's an immediate buzz, people offering things they could bring, decorations they could make. I think Wiress can handle the crowd provided that we keep it at my house. That way, she is secure on her home turf, but the sanctuary of her house is not invaded.

I don't know if people just like a party, but it's still heartwarming that everyone wants to be involved. The word spreads quickly and I start to think we might not be able to keep this a surprise. The part of it I am happiest about is that enough people have assumed Nik will be there, that they have already talked him into going. I know that will mean the world to Wiress, if he actually shows up. I've had my plan for her gift for a while now, and I get everything ready, but I can't assemble anything because she uses the workshop too.

On her birthday, she's called in to discuss her studies with one of the academy professors, a rouse we thought up together, and I get to work assembling my gift. My helpers and I double and triple check the safety of my workmanship, almost as eager to keep her safe as I am. We're finished with lots of time to change and get ready for the party.

_Wiress_

I look onto my porch. There's a swing. One of those benches that hang from the roof and you can sit and swing and I've always wanted one. I dash to Beetee's house. He has to be responsible for this.

"Happy Birthday!" I'm a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, I'm not scared, but I can't speak, I don't know where to look, but then Beetee has his arm wrapped around my waist, sheltering me and protecting me, letting me know that he expected this reaction and it's okay. This supports me enough to smile and clap and greet people happily. I've never had a proper birthday party before. In the center of the room, surrounded by lots of smiling faces, is the best birthday present I could ask for. Nik is there.

"Happy birthday, Wire-tires." He holds his arms out to me. I run to him, hug him, really hold him. He doesn't have anything else to say, in fact, he's pretty quiet and leaves after about an hour, but he came, he supported me, it _means_ something and I'm flying high. There's cake and drinks, I get to talk to my old academy friends and we actually make coffee dates for the next week so we will stay more in touch. It's lovely to be around people without having to be frightened of them. I'd hate to have to give a speech or anything, but speaking in pockets of two or three people are fine. I can feel Beetee wherever he moves, we're connected and he keeps me calm.

We turn on music, there's dancing, the fast kind and not the boxy circle I hated when I was young. I dance with Beetee, someone's taking photos and we pose with giant smiles. I'm gently tipsy and just happy to have an excuse to touch him. When I get tired, I pull him to the couch with me. "I'm enjoying my party," I murmur.

"Thank goodness we have two houses," he laughs. "We can get some sleep and clean up in the morning."

I lean into him. He touches my face, cradles it in the palm of his hand. He touches me like I'm something so precious to him. "Who says I'll let you out of bed in the morning?" I press my lips to his, slow and seductive. I'm not trying to get him naked in a room full of people. I just have difficulty controlling myself with him. He is my weakness, the one thing I really, truly need. I jump back up, give him a flirty glance over my shoulder, and get back into the dancing.

_Beetee_

It would be so easy for the Capitol to break me. All they would have to do would be to threaten Wiress, in any way. Our plan is a sound one, but I'm nervous all the same. The Victory Tour is just _so_ soon. Hopefully, they will all fall for it completely and we will be a beloved couple they cannot break up, _or_ they will see our deliberate lovemaking for the cameras as an act, and not guess that we actually love each other, thereby not realizing that they have ammunition against us. The Capitol doesn't harm every victor, I've talked to my peers enough to know that, but Wiress was popular, her Games were popular. I'd be surprised if no one wanted her for a date after that.

I roll over in bed, look at her sleeping form. She's wearing one of my shirts, a tee that she's now declared her own. I want to protect her. I couldn't protect her before she was reaped, so I don't know how I expect to now, but I want to marry this woman. I want to grow old with her. I lean over and stroke her face; she smiles in her sleep and snuggles close. I gather her into my arms before I fall back asleep.

_Wiress Parsons, age 17_

My prep team arrives, thinking they needed lots of time to get me back to being camera ready. They weren't prepared for the glow that happiness can give you. I don't care too much about my looks as long as Beetee likes them, but I still have to admit that I'm looking my absolute best, and I'm including my previous Capitol looks. They still manage to find flaws, body hair, acne, so I am trapped for most of the day, but the prep ladies tell me I look "stunning" and "radiant" and make sexual innuendos, which I find hilarious and can't help but join in on. How come there are so few words that rhyme with penis?

The cameras come to get some home shots, some information about my inventions, and I can see Beetee shy away from them. He didn't get along with his camera crew, so he dislikes and doesn't trust these. Twelve takes later of me trying to explain my simplest invention, he comes to my rescue, summing up my complicated description. I love how succinctly he put it, and I smile up at him. The Capitol people adore it. I pass around some photos, they set us up in the same pose as one of us as children, me clinging to his back as we laugh. The comparison to the old photo is spot on; I demand a copy so we can frame them together. We make a point to at least pretend we're living in different houses. They force us to ignore them and pretend we're alone so they can get a shot of us on the porch swing at sunset. We purposefully film Beetee walking into his own house afterwards, but he rushes back the second the cameras are off. I'm pretty happy about all of the recognition our life together is getting. This really seems to be the best way to keep us safe. The Capitol, the President, can threaten one of us with the other, but that's all. He can't really take action. Not if we're Panem's sweethearts. Hopefully we can stay important for two years or so and then someone else can come around and no one would even want us or want to hurt us and we can spend the rest of our lives in peaceful obscurity.

Every time one of the film crew mentions Nik, I get upset, not crying or panic, but just blue and sad and I forget what I'm supposed to be doing. I haven't seen him since my birthday, and although Beetee checks on him a lot, Nik never asks for me. I feel bad about my moods because the crew have honestly been very sweet and accommodating, careful to be respectful of our privacy as long as we gave them shots they could use. I thank them by making large home cooked meals every evening. I'm not a great chef, it's just home food, mostly stew that is easy to make for lots of people, but they all seem to like it a lot and are very grateful. They're not really used to how chilly District 3 gets, so I always make something warm and filling. It makes me feel better to feed people, to see them happy at the table and have Bee squeeze my fingers surreptitiously when I hand him a bowl.

Our last night before we leave, Beetee makes love to me. It's gentle and sweet; we communicate with our bodies exactly how we feel.

_Beetee_

We leave on the victory tour in high spirits. We've written a few lines that Wiress can say at every district, short enough that she should be able to focus and get through it. If she wants to speak to the families, she can do it privately and quietly. Being affectionate in public isn't that bad, either. I really do want to hold her hand all the time, and I want to dance with her and hold her and lead her into parties. On the way to District 12, Wiress paces in the living room car, repeating her speech. "You have it, Wire," I tell her. "Calm down." She gives me a look. I've gotten to know her face so well recently, but this is a look I'm used to from even before we got together. It means "Are you _stupid?_ " so I take it that she's pretty nervous.

I approach her slowly, when she's anxious she can scare easily. "Love." I kiss her cheek. "You will do fine. I will be there for you. Right there on stage next to you." She leans into my arms, accepting my embrace.

"Just nerves," she whispers. "I bet you could make me stop thinking." She looks up at me, her large eyes are always so beautiful and now they're teasing, suggesting. She presses her hands against my chest, arching her back seductively. She's untucking my shirt when we hear the door open, and we have to spring apart. I think I must be blushing, but Wiress is completely unashamed. It's funny that she's shy sometimes, but nothing about sex really embarrasses her. Gunny is in the doorway, letting us know that we're practically at District 12.

"I suspected you might need a few minutes to pull yourselves together," she gives us an arched eyebrow and a smile to let us know that it's alright.

Wiress sighs. "Oh well."

I still duck my face to hers for a kiss. _This_ makes her blush. Not being walked in on while making out, but a simple, chaste kiss when she isn't expecting it. Maybe it's the reminder that we're dealing with love here, not just lust. Although, I do lust after her a pretty insane amount.

_Wiress_

We're in District 12. I haven't been in another district before, I've really only even seen them on television for reapings and Beetee's victory tour. They're poorer here than I'm used to. Lots of starving faces. The blood-that-isn't-there is all over, and it makes me feel woozy. I reach for Beetee's arm to balance, and he's right there, always there.

"Are you alright?" he whispers in my ear. I think the cameras caught it, they will probably show him whispering to me, lips close to my skin. I nod because I'm not sure I can say any words other than my speech which I have both memorized and on a card. There's the usual kind of speech given by the mayor, and I make the mistake of looking at the two families on stage which makes me want to fall over. Beetee has an arm around my waist and one at my elbow, supporting me.

When it is time for my speech, I barely make it to the podium. I'm nervous and scared and my body is threatening to go into shut down panic mode, I have no idea how I must look to everyone watching but I sort of hate myself for the moment. I plant my hands on the podium, willing myself to focus on the smoothness, willing myself to feel the bite of the chilly wind. "I am not proud of what I've done." My voice wavers, and I take a deep breath, close my eyes. Pretend I'm just reciting it for Beetee as practice. "But I am a survivor, and I will not apologize for surviving. I will not regret killing to survive." I step back from the podium, and Beetee immediately takes my hand grounding me and giving me strength. My entire brain has spiraled down into just the feeling of my hand in his, it's all I'm aware of until Beetee places a hand on the small of my back and leads me off the stage. I've only been "out" a few minutes, I'm not even sure Beetee noticed.

I exchange a few sad and probably meaningless words with the families of the tributes, much easier in a back room than on stage, but I'm not entirely sure which ones were the District 12 tributes, or if I killed them. Our party is taken to one of the coal mines, apparently the big draw of the district, and Beetee is hesitant about letting me go inside like they want to, I think he's worried that I will freak out, but I actually find the dark and quiet peaceful. He doesn't like it when I call it freaking out. He calls them panic attacks and says they are normal and I shouldn't worry and I'm not crazy and he loves me, loves me so much. We get some time to clean and dress before the small dinner they provide, and I do need the time because everything is covered in soot and I'm kind of enjoying myself because I can draw on my skin, swirls and loops. Beetee looks at me a bit sadly.

"What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head. "There are some victors who are morphling addicts. You reminded me of them, but it's not a bad thing." It seems like a bad thing. I stop right away. The soot requires a long time in the shower, and Fisk is impatiently waiting to dress me. I have a green tunic and legging outfit, it reminds me of Robin Hood or Peter Pan but I've only read those books as contraband so I don't know if the rules are different in the Capitol or of Fisk is going for something completely different, so I don't say anything.

I spend the night trying to say the right things but I think I fail a couple times because the people I'm talking to look shocked and sometimes walk away. It's difficult. I am nervous and can't eat, and all of the adrenaline pumping through my body because of that is mixing with the blood flow from how good Beetee looks in his suit and I really can't concentrate. There is someone with a fiddle and the mayor teaches me how to dance to their music, it's so different from what I'm used to, but I like it, and I get Beetee to dance with me for about twenty minutes straight until my feet hurt and I'm probably embarrassing myself with how much I'm flirting with Beetee. I just keep reaching up to fix his collar or his hair, or I stumble a bit (not on purpose), and don't let go when he catches me (on purpose), and I'm sort of exaggerating things like how I walk and I can feel his eyes on me so I know it's working, he feels it too. By the time we finally finish the goodbyes and formalities and are back on the train, we just wave everyone else away and rush back to his room.

We've made his room ours, so to speak, since mine is covered in dresses and things. We aren't exactly advertising that we are staying in the same bed, but there's nothing worth hiding, either. I've spent the whole day yearning for Beetee, and we are finally alone together. "Took us long enough", he says huskily. I can tell that the waiting has been hard on him.

"Too long." We kiss, our kisses are phenomenal, I don't understand how simple skin on skin can feel this good, I understand there are nerves and muscles involved in it but I still can't comprehend how it's possible that the world could end and I would just be here, clinging to this man with my lips on his.

_Beetee_

Wiress has been teasing me all night. She's been dressed to accentuate how small she is, how delicate and harmless, but the outfit has the added benefit of letting me see her legs, her natural shape, her waist pulled in by a simple belt. I wonder if the District 12 victor has been slipping her anything to drink. He's angry and bitter, the rumor is that his whole family was killed, like mine, but also his sweetheart. He's been drinking to forget ever since. One dance and conversation with Wiress is enough to put that theory to rest, she's lucid and aware of her surroundings, focusing on me as the stable point, her North Star. I'm impatient to make it back to the train, now that I can be sure that she soberly wants me. Everything takes ten times longer than I wish it would, but when we are in my room, alone at last, her kiss makes the waiting worthwhile.

I am more careful taking off my suit than she is with her clothes, I definitely hear a rip as she fights her way out of the tunic. When she's just in her underwear, pulling pins out of her hair, I have to stop for a moment and appreciate that this is _Wiress_ , the woman I love, the woman who is my other half and means everything to me. She waits and gives me my time staring at her, a knowing smile playing on her lips. We finally make it to the bed, and it doesn't take long to renew the excitement that's been bothering us all day. Her hands are talented, everywhere she touches me seems to direct the feeling to my groin. I lay her back and kiss her through her panties. She's wet, wonderfully wet. Her body jolts when my lips touch her, even through the cloth, and she squirms. "Beetee!" I could hear her say my name like that a million times and not be tired of it. We remove the last pieces of clothing keeping us from being completely together, and she directs me inside her. She gives a shuddery exhale, which just makes me harden more.

"Livewire, oh, livewire. You're so tight." I can't fight the things I say in bed, everything is cliché or obvious, but she seems to like my poor attempts at dirty talk, seems to like everything about me. She still touches me; she particularly likes my arms, and runs her hands up and down them as I move inside her. I pace myself based on her grip, it usually tells me how close she is to coming. She's had her eyes closed to enjoy the sensations, but now she opens them to search my face.

"I still can't believe I'm with you." Her voice is full of wonder. I chuckle, respond with an extra deep thrust that makes her gasp, then smile wickedly. "I've fantasized about you for so long, I can't believe that it's the actual Beetee inside me right now." I touch her forehead to mine.

"I'm here, Wiress. And real. And I want to make you scream." She arches her back so the angle is different, and her panting tells me that I'm hitting her exactly right. I push down my desire, I want her to come first, I _do_ want her to scream for me before I come. Her shoulder is near enough my mouth at this angle, I kiss and suck at her, lick down the line of her collarbone, gently bite my way back up. She adores her neck and shoulders being kissed, so her grip on my arms is pretty desperate.

"My Bee, my love," she moans. I really can't last much longer, I am losing all of my self control. Then her nails dig into my skin, and her hips curve into mine, body beginning to shake. She does as I asked, and she screams for me. She makes an amazing sound and I would not have been able to contain myself if I had tried, I join her in bliss.

We end up settling in for the night without redressing, there doesn't seem to be a point since we don't need to wake up early for anything, and we might just want each other again. "Fantasized about me, huh?" I can't help asking. She looks embarrassed.

"Preteen girls have some heavy…"

"Emotions?"

"No…hormones." She hides her face in my chest. Her breath tickles just a bit. I love every motion this woman makes. "You know how handsome you are."

I actually don't. I didn't have girls throwing themselves at me for dates or anything. I'm nerdy, a bit odd. I felt pretty invisible until I became a victor. Although, if I think back, Wiress has always had admiration in her eyes, even when I was young.

"I was going to have to find some handsome young man to think about, wasn't I?" She's still hiding her face. "So when I pictured sex, thought about losing my virginity, yes, it was always you."

I can't hide the smile this gives me, don't want to hide my masculine pride. "Did I live up to your expectations?" She lifts her head in order to roll her eyes at me.

"A terrible disappointment," she jokes. I tuck her hair out of her face, behind her ear. I love her playful side. Our banter turns to kisses turns to cuddles turns to sleep, and neither of us have nightmares, so I consider it a good night.

_Wiress_

We have a travel day, and I get some time to work on an idea I got in the mines yesterday. They only had very simple, antiquated pulley systems in place, and I think I could improve production and safety. I don't have materials to begin testing, but I want to work out all the theory before we get home. Beetee sees that I have my work face on, so he doesn't bother me, just gives me a kiss on the forehead; he does force me to stop for lunch, but that's just good sense and I appreciate that. We eat in silence, the three of us, with Gunny being the only one who seems uncomfortable with the quiet.

Gunny has been pretty okay to be around so far this trip. I don't really know what to think of her. I'm not automatically against people from the Capitol, but she seems so frivolous one minute, and then actually cares the next. She's not in on our plan to show off our romance, but she's encouraging us and seems to enjoy calling us "the lovebirds" and making excuses for us to go off alone together. She's so yellow, like a sunny day, that she repels the blood. She rarely has any blood-that-isn't-there even in the room with her. I keep trying to look for patterns, why and were the blood appears but it doesn't make sense to me and sometimes I remember how I always knew when Beetee was about to knock on our door so I would open it before he could, so maybe the blood is like that, just a _feeling_ I get. I wish I knew if it meant something.

I have some good ideas in the afternoon, and from there it's really just a lot of math, and I'm pleased with the amount of work I've done. I search out Beetee, he's in the living space, reading. I sit next to his legs stretched out on the sofa, rub his feet until he gets to a good place in the book to stop. "Hello," I say. He grins boyishly and pulls me on top of him.

"Hello." He kisses me. "Progress?"

I nod. He's holding me close, I love my work but there's no way I can concentrate on it when I feel his heart beat this fiercely near mine. "Beetee." I don't have anything else to say. I just like saying his name. I just like confirming that he is real, that this is real. He doesn't seem to mind.

District 11 is very solemn, very strict. The "celebration" is more of an ordeal, but Beetee gets me through it. District 10 is more fun, they have music and teach us the steps so we can join in. I really like dancing like this, spirited and lively, not the waltzing we had at Beetee's victor party. The camera films us dancing, me missing a step and Beetee having to catch me, us taking a break and speaking close to each other's ears to be heard over the music. At one point, we are about to kiss, but the music ends suddenly so the mayor can speak, and we pull apart.


	9. Chapter 9

_Beetee_

Some of the districts are just more boring than others, I'll admit. Wiress is soaking everything up, she's going to be inspired for years, I can tell, but for me, all I can see are the fear and poverty of the outlying districts. They don't have many victors, so there isn't even the relief of Parcel Day to boost the economy. I have difficulty explaining it to Wiress, I don't want to give her more heavy stuff on her shoulders, but she understands enough to understand why I frantically touch her in the evenings, why I want to cherish the one good thing I can count on, the one thing the Capitol left for me. She's a shining light.

Wiress likes District 7, keeps staring up at the tree canopy. She asks lots of questions about irrigation systems, the way they differ here from those in District 11. I chat with Blight, who won two years after me, but seems to be adjusting better than I ever did. "So. Good to see you saved her." He nods casually at Wiress. "Bet she's grateful."

He's just making small talk. I know better than to let my temper have control, but going through the Games almost guarantees you a violence problem and I want to hit him very badly. "She saved herself," I say through gritted teeth. I don't even touch his assumption, because his idea of gratitude is vulgar and I really _will_ use my fists if we continue that line of thought.

Blight just nods, he's so unaware of my thoughts right now, that I've thought of five ways I could kill him without moving, without alarming anybody until it was too late. "Some men would have a problem with her not really talking, but then again, with women, maybe that's a benefit, right?" I clench my fists, unable to stand it any longer, when he bursts out laughing. "Okay, truce! Truce." He shakes his head. "You, the stuffed shirt geek, you're in love!"

I'm not sure what's going on, but I still don't like the way he talked about Wiress. "I would look after any of my mentees. I wouldn't let you talk about them like that."

"Yeah but you'd say something, not just seethe, ready to throw a punch any second. Nice self control, by the way. No flinching or jerking. If you wanted to hit me, I wouldn't know where to dodge. I would have gotten hit." He slaps my back. "I just wouldn't expect it from you, Volts." Some of the newspapers started to call me Volts after my Games, and the mentors picked it up. I can't tell if it's mocking in any way, but I don't really care. "Wouldn't expect you to go so mental over a girl. Even the geek's got some steam."

Wiress runs back over to me from where she was taking detailed notes on the piping. She slips her fingers into mine. "We don't have trees…" She drifts off as she stares up.

"Like this." I finish. "We have trees, but they're little scraggly things." It's safe to assume that victors don't remember anything of the other districts. Victory tours are too quick, too stressful. Everything blurs together.

"Not like this," Wiress repeats. Her hand is warm in mine, and I like how excited she is. I want her to be happy. I give her hand a squeeze, and she turns to me, beaming. I don't know how anyone could resist her. I pull her into a kiss that's as much a warning to Blight as it is a celebration of her happiness. She rewards me with a laugh, and a whisper of "tonight" before running off. It's all I needed to be able to face Blight calm and above his bullshit.

"I'd do anything for that woman," I tell him, a thin veil over the threat. "You don't want to know my limits." Then I walk away. I'm feeling pretty sure that I got my point across. The celebration in the evening is very nice, Wiress is getting along with Alice, one of the victors, and they are deep in conversation every time I look over to check on her. I spend my time with Blight and Griffen, discussing mentor strategies and tactics to deal with the careers.

Wiress and I spend the nights loving each other. Not always sex, but always connecting, always showing our love. I know there's often a honeymoon period with new relationships, but I'm still a bit amazed at how we never tire of this, are never bored or have nothing to talk about. We can lie in bed for hours, just being together. "Wire, you scare me sometimes." She stiffens up and I realize that I've said it wrong. "No, no. I mean, that I want you so much. That I might never get enough of you." She relaxes back into my arms, and I kiss her bare shoulder.

"That scares me too." She sighs. She's facing away, so I can't see her expression, but I think she's smiling. "I was in love with you for at least ten years with no action on your part, now that I have your love to feed the fire, I'm being consumed by the flames." She snuggles back, deliberately pressing her bottom against me.

"Minx." I continue to kiss her shoulder, and wrap my arms around her to touch her breasts.

"Absolutely consumed," she breathes, tilting her head back, letting me get closer. We aren't frantic this time, we keep it slow and easy as I enter her from behind. Lying like this, interlocked on the bed, is so intimate; I can't tell where the separation between the two of us is. I start to feel like if we succeed on this victory tour, we might actually be able to make it in the real world. We could be together for the rest of our lives.

_Wiress_

District 4 is beautiful, even before we step off the train. I'm pressed against the window watching the sand, the water rush by. Some of the houses are on stilts, letting the ocean lap at the ground beneath them while staying dry. It's my first non-television view of the ocean, and I can't wait to walk on the beach myself. They have a large group of victors, and I can't cling to any of the names as they're rattled off at me in a row. Really, all I want is to get my feet in that water, and then maybe get as much information as possible on desalination techniques, but mostly feet in the water. Beetee sees how excited I am, and encourages our group to go to the beach first thing.

Most of the victors leave, say they will see me at tonight's feast, but Doma and Veena stay, two girls who are between mine and Beetee's ages. They're both really nice and we're getting along well, but Doma keeps leading Beetee off separately from the group and sometimes I feel a little lost trying to talk to someone when he's not there but Veena can talk without much encouragement so maybe I can handle it. Veena won her games at age 12, and it was a big deal, she was really small, even for her age, and got lots of sympathy support but she was also good with a trident, good with a spear. Beetee comes back to me right before we reach the beach, eager to see my reaction.

There's the ocean. Spread out right in front of me, and it's _loud_! I didn't expect it to make so much noise. I take my shoes off and run towards it, only losing my courage when my toes hit the first licks of cold water. Beetee follows, holding his shoes in one hand, reaching for me with the other. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I laugh. "It might be a bit too scary to be beautiful." I take a few slow steps, letting my ankles get accustomed to the temperature. Fisk dressed me in short pants specifically for this. They almost always like to film victors experiencing the ocean. I gently splash in the water, it makes me giggle. Beetee stands behind me, puts his hand holding mine on my waist.

"You, livewire, are the most adorable thing I've ever seen." I think I'm blushing. I'm not used to his affection in public. The cameras circle us, catching every moment. He feels my hesitation and brushes my cheek with his lips. "Not just for the cameras, Wire," he whispers. I wish I could freeze this moment, Beetee touching me while we stand in the ocean. I hope one of those cameras takes a still shot so we can hang it on our wall. I need to remember this feeling.

The beach visit calmed me, soothed me for the same horrible ceremony and same horrible speech as every other district. People are loud, yelling, both positive and negative. I've gotten used to the booing. "I am not proud of what I've done. But I am a survivor, and I will not apologize for surviving. I will not regret killing to survive." I try to look serious instead of nervous, keep my face still. The only sign of emotion I allow is my relief at Beetee holding my hand once I step back. He grips me so tightly, helps me stay grounded.

The feast that night is lovely, I've never had much seafood, District 4 mostly exports to the Capitol, so I love trying every new dish. Again, Doma monopolizes Beetee's conversation, and I am getting a bit jealous. She's very pretty, wavy brown hair lit up by the sun, freckles and a sweet little nose. I can see the appeal. I run my finger down my nose. It's not little or sweet. I want to say something. I have no idea what I would say. Beetee, as in tune with my feelings as ever, touches my thigh under the table. It's not sexy, it's more like a secret message. Even as she talks and talks to him, he's really right here with me. I nudge his knee with mine. He squeezes my leg. I want to laugh but that would give us away.

They don't play music for us to dance to, here; it's just soft background music while people chat. Everyone wants to talk to me and it's overwhelming but they are kind, and not as scary as I expected a career district to be. A victor named Heron gently flirts with me, which makes me happy because now Beetee can feel a little jealous too, and we can be even. I don't know if they are serious, but Beetee and I are only teasing, I'm sure of that. We will be curled up together in bed tonight no matter what.

I go outside, there's a little balcony and you can hear the ocean whooshing against the land. I think that if I couldn't live in District 3 anymore, I'd probably choose to live in District 4. At least I would if I could be near the sea. Beetee follows me out. "I knew you'd like it here."

"I really do," I tell him.

He leans on the balcony, staring at the ocean. I'm suddenly reminded of our first kiss, on the roof of the training center in the Capitol. "Even when I came here the first time, on my victory tour, I thought of you. I thought you'd find peace in the sound of the waves."

I wrap my arms around him, laying my head on his back. "Peace. That's the word." He turns in my arms. We cling to each other, just listening to the sound of that massive ocean until someone else comes onto the balcony.

"Oops! Sorry! I thought you were alone out here!" Doma trills. Beetee doesn't move his arms whatsoever, it's clear that he's holding me and that it's more than a friendly embrace.

"That's fine. Was there something you need?"

"No! Nope! Nothing," Doma says. She seems lost for a minute, then ducks back inside.

Beetee and I can only hold in our laughter for about thirty seconds, and then we just dissolve. We're laughing, we're holding each other, we sink down to the floor. We take about five minutes of getting out all of our sillies before we split apart to socialize at the party. I have to avoid Doma's face in order to not start laughing again.

_Beetee_

I have gotten to know some of the other victors in my time mentoring, but I'm still pretty new at it. Heron is a nice guy. Mags, one of the older victors, is friendly. Doma and Veena seem harmless, if annoying. Districts 1 and 2 will likely be awful, so I'm glad that Wiress can meet some friendly faces now. I don't know if she'll have to mentor right away next year or what, but at least she'll know some people.

I stand near the wall, watching other people milling about and checking to see who I've missed in my "polite conversation checklist", when I hear voices.

"Very cute," says Doma. She has a high pitched voice that carries very easily, and it's difficult to tune out. I wrinkle my nose, I'm really in the best people watching spot and I'm trying to keep an eye on Wiress as well as see who I need to speak with so I don't want to move.

"Yeah, I bet if you mentor together next year, something will happen," says Veena. "He can't exactly do anything with his mentee here, ya know?"

Oh sparks, they're talking about me.

"I've just always had a thing for smart guys. And he's _really_ smart. Ooh, plus, have you seen his hands? Those _fingers?_ Sign me up!"

I have to admit, this is very flattering. There were never girls at the academy who had crushes on me, no sneaking kisses in the stairwell between classes. None of that. But once I move past my ego, I'm worried that if I can overhear, so can others. I don't want the camera crew picking up any of this, I don't want any complication to our plan.

I can hear Doma make a frustrated noise. "I really thought I put out enough signals. I flirted really hard, Veena! I thought I was being _obvious_."

"I told you not to worry about it! The kid is just holding him back."

"He was holding her. I want him to hold _me_. Can you even imagine what a guy like that is like in bed? They call him Volts. It might be more than just a nickname!" They giggle.

I can't help but roll my eyes. That's it, I will have to stick close to Wiress for the rest of the night. I don't want any other rumors to start, and I don't want to deal with Doma anymore.

_Wiress_

Beetee finds me by the drinks, as I pick up a glass of wine. He's very touchy-feely tonight and I'm sure some is for the cameras, but some is for that little spark we get when we touch, the one that makes me want to keep touching him again and again. I'm avoiding a corner of the room because of all the blood-that-isn't-there, so I steer us towards the large groups of people, somewhere I won't have to speak much. Beetee touches my back lightly, I love when he does that. I shift my weight closer to him, leaning into him with my hip. He loves that. His thumb runs up my spine, giving me a shiver.

I'm so wrapped up in him, and our playing, and probably the wine as well, that I'm a bit spacey during some of our conversations. We're speaking to a group of the victors, and they ask me what I like about District 4 other than the ocean. "I like the sun," I say. "District 3 is kind of smoky and always a little cold. We don't…" I drift off. I've forgotten something. There was something important wasn't there? Somewhere in the back of my head I hear Beetee finishing my sentence, my other half, as always. I had specific notes for each district, things I wanted to learn, to get information about. Contacts to be made for some of the ideas I had, ideas to improve life in every district, if only the Capitol would actually implement any of my machines, which they likely won't. That was it, what I wanted to learn about District 4. "Desalination techniques!"

"What?"

I realize I said this out loud, said it rather loud, actually. Beetee is holding my hand, looking at me kindly, waiting to see what I have to say about them, used to my outbursts and what outwardly appears to be randomness. Everyone else is looking at me strangely, and I'm guessing that the conversation I interrupted was on a much, much different topic. "Sorry," I mutter. "I forgot about them." I pull away from Beetee. I am too embarrassed to stay in this conversation, and besides, I can talk to the Mayor, ask him to make me contacts with their scientists. At least we can write.

"Such a shame Volts is paired with a nutcase." Doma's voice carries to me. "Just plain nuts. Hey! Nuts and Volts, get it?" People in the group laugh, and I'm so embarrassed. I'm used to this, used to being so bad at talking to people, but this time felt worse. I was in front of cameras, in front of strangers, in front of people I will have to mentor with, in front of Beetee, and probably worst of all, a pretty girl who likes Beetee. I hold myself together long enough to make my request to the Mayor, and when I turn away, Beetee is there. He's always there. Right when I need him. He knows I need him. I throw myself at him, and he catches me the same as when we do this in the workshop. I lean my forehead to his. "Let's go to bed, I'm tired of waiting," I whisper. He kisses me.

"Yes."

We are clearly walking out hand in hand and also clearly headed to the train together, and I think everyone knows what we are leaving to do and _I don't care_. This is our big "fuck you" to them, this is us making it clear how little the insults mean to us. Right before we go through the door, Beetee lowers his hand to my ass, makes his plans for me even more evident. He's usually the shy one about sex, so I just want to laugh and laugh and let him know how brilliant he is. More brilliant than the stars.


	10. Chapter 10

_Beetee_

Districts 1 and 2 aren’t any better than I expected. Career victors are almost all jerks, still trying to assert dominance and scare anyone else. I think they make a big show because Wiress killed so many people, they want to make her ranking clear. I’m proud of Wiress, she stays above it all and honestly comes off looking like the winner in the intimidation contest. She meets all eye contact, and is rarely the first one to look away. I hate how fancy those parties are, but I’d go through a lot worse to get Wiress’ reaction to seeing me in a tux again. Wiress likes the long dresses she gets to wear and she likes champagne, and District 1 in particular is covered in gadgets, so she’s actually enjoying herself. She wears violet in District 2, powder blue in District 1. Our picture is taken everywhere we go, and Wiress is in high demand as a dancing partner. I don’t dance much, so I end up watching her with the other men, feeling jealous that I’m not the one with my hands at her waist. I mostly have to look at the mentors whose tributes kill mine year after year, healthy and trained, and ready with advantages my kids don’t get. Some of them are alright, but none of them are friendly.

We leave District 1 in the early hours of the morning after the party, and we expect to be in the Capitol by the time we wake up. Only, Wiress can’t sleep, and she gets more and more agitated as there are more lights, sounds, and garish colors. I hold her close to me, and she just shakes and can’t relax. Gunny and Fisk force her to take some pills that calm her down, and I hate it. She’s a shell of her usual self. It gets her smiling for the cameras provided I keep my arm around her, and it gets her up to the victor suite without a panic attack, but I don’t consider that worth it. They assure me that it will wear off in time for the party tonight, so she takes a nap and I just sit next to her in bed, reading and stroking her back. She wakes up gradually, snuggling into my body and blinking.

“Bee.”

“I’m right here, livewire.” She rolls over to face me.

“I didn’t like that stuff.”

“Me either. I won’t let them do it again.” I smooth her hair away from her face. At the moment she looks so defenseless.

“I understand why they did it, I couldn’t handle myself, but I didn’t like it.” She looks up at me with those big eyes. I practically fall in love with her all over again. “I need to get down to the styling team soon. This is the big…”

“Party. Yeah, it’s big, but I will be there the whole time. We can dance, like we did in the districts.”

“Sponsors.” She spits the word out, and I know exactly what she means. We will have to put on quite a show tonight.

“It’s a good thing I love you,” I tell her, “because it will be on display tonight.” She makes a face. “No matter what, though, Wiress, I mean it. I’ll enjoy the feel of your skin every time I touch you, I’ll be adoring you every time I say that. It will all be real.”

She sits up. “Not fair. I need to leave.” She pulls my face to hers in an intense kiss. She bites my lip gently. “I’m going to need you tonight. But make sure you remember that I want you, too.”

“There’s my girl.” I swat at her butt as she climbs off the bed, and she laughs.

_Wiress_

My dress for the Capitol party is amazing. It’s the same blue as my eyes, the color Fisk says I should wear all the time. They’re going for a sophisticated adult look, trying to make sure that everyone takes me seriously, sees me as a good romantic match for Beetee and his intellectual equal. I like the fabric, it’s smooth and crisp, Fisk has to stop me several times from pulling at it while he adjusts the hem. I want to compliment him, tell him that I love it and that it will give me the confidence I need to face the scary Capitol citizens, but the words don’t want to come out, so I have to just touch his shoulder and smile at him. I think he might be used to me enough by now to know what I mean.

The stylists put lots of makeup on me, it feels thick and they threaten me with death and humiliation if I rub my eyes. When I look in the mirror, I don’t really see me. I see my mother, although I never saw her this dressed up for any reason. I have her eyes, her mouth with its quirked smile. It’s somewhat comforting, this reminder that my parents live on through Nik and I. I do look sophisticated; no one would guess I’m only seventeen. I meet up with Gunny and Beetee before we make our grand entrance. It’s hard to look away from the mustard yellow monstrosity Gunny has on, but Beetee takes my breath away. He looks amazing in a tuxedo, with accents of the same blue I’m wearing. Something about him in formal clothes always gets my heart racing, I don’t know why. He takes my arm.

“Beautiful. Simply stunning,” he says softly into my ear. I’m glowing from the compliment as they motion for me to await announcement. There’s some formal language and speech, then they announce me, as if I’m important, as if I did something worthwhile when really all I did was kill some people. Everyone applauds, and I want to flinch but I’ve worked so hard to not show anything tonight, and I’m good, I don’t. I just squeeze Beetee’s arm slightly, and he smiles at me, a smile that makes my breath hitch because he is just _so handsome_ and he loves me, he could have any girl in the world and he _loves me_.

That thought gets me through shaking several hands and even one dance with someone who sponsored me, helped me get the explosives that got me the win. Then Beetee takes my hand and dancing with him is always wonderful. I now understand the formal “boxy circle” dancing I hated as a child, it’s so romantic when you are held by one you care about, and you just move in time together, it’s like making love. We’ve danced together enough on the victory tour that we don’t need to pay attention to our feet much, and we just gaze at each other. “I didn’t get to tell you…”

“That I’m astoundingly good looking?”

“Yes, actually.” I wouldn’t have used those exact words, but his teasing hyperbole is accurate. I think he’s beyond handsome. He pulls me slightly closer, a bit closer than is proper, but who cares.

“You’re the only woman to ever think so,” he says softly. His eyes look genuine, but that really can’t be true. Maybe the only woman to tell him, but lots of women think it.  What about Doma? And I know for a fact that lots of girls in the academy had crushes on him and tried to get me to invite them over when he would be sure to be there. Of course, this was after his Games made him somewhat famous.

“You are objectively good looking. But in my eyes…” I haven’t drifted away, I just can’t think of a word that means _enough_. “perfection,” I settle on. The music ends and we miss it for a moment, just staring at each other. We couldn’t have planned that better for the cameras if we tried, it makes me giggle, and Beetee leads me back to Gunny with a bashful smile. It’s pretty clear that we only have eyes for one another.

Beetee leaves him arm around me as I try some of the food and attempt to make small talk. Whenever I drift off with a sentence unfinished, he’s right there, making sure I can be understood. I occasionally allow myself to lean my head on his shoulder, hoping that it looks romantic, not like I am weak. I talk about my inventing, Most of what I say is too complicated for anyone to understand, but I have never been good at gauging what is general knowledge and what is technical nonsense from an outsider’s point of view. That’s what Beetee is for. We each have people we need to have courtesy dances with, but we keep catching each other’s eyes on the dance floor. “I see there’s a bit of mentor romance going on, huh?” my dance partner asks. I think I’m blushing.

“He…” I don’t know what to say. “Yeah,” I settle on. Truth before eloquence. He laughs.

“Well that’s awfully sweet!” I don’t hear what he says next because I’m staring at the chandelier in the center of the room, there are so many lights, and each one gives off several shadows that dance around the walls. The next thing I realize, I’m being handed over to Beetee, and his touch brings me back because even my scattered brain wants to be aware of every second his skin touches mine.

“What was that about,” he murmurs in my ear.

“I don’t know.” I whisper back. “I want you, Bee.”

His fingers spasm against my back when I say that, I’m not sure he even realizes it, but I love knowing that I affect him too.

“Well, I’m not drinking any more tonight, then. Can’t get tired.” He smiles at me, that crooked grin that made me fall in love with him as a child. I tuck my head under his chin and lean close. We’ve been given permission to be affectionate, haven’t we? So I will do what I want. I will get close like I want.

The Capitol people are all very nice at this party, nicer than I expected. It’s probably because we’re giving them a show. We got to choose what kind of show, and we chose romance. I can imagine how much more difficult it could be for people who don’t have an angle to play. I mostly get to be quiet because the Capitol people seem to like talking about themselves, and I mostly get to lean into Beetee because photographers keep wanting shots of us together. I like to let my eyes lose focus and just stare out at the dancers, see the swirls of colors moving to the tune. I’m ready to go home, but I’m proud of myself. I think I’ve done well. We leave the party in the wee hours of the morning, slightly tipsy, but invigorated from the excitement of the evening. I have plenty of energy to make good on my earlier promise to Beetee. I climb on top of him and get us where our foreplay all night had been leading. Afterwards, I slump over exhausted in his arms.

“Wiress. That was wonderful.” His voice is quiet, tired too. “I love you.”

“We’re heading home again,” I whisper. I don’t really like the idea of the District 3 party, but then I picture all the children I see in the park dancing, with full tummies and pink faces. That’s pretty great. I look over, and he’s fallen asleep. I take his glasses off for him and turn out the light. We have another two day trip ahead of us, so we’d better settle in.

_Beetee_

I wake up groggy and confused about the time. It’s late, but that makes sense considering when we finally fell asleep. Wiress is still asleep, facing away from me but pressed up against my side. It’s the perfect opportunity for me to spoon her, just hold her close. I inhale her scent, it’s warm and comforting. She’s my home now. I slide my hand underneath hers, pulling our bodies tightly together. I hope so hard that we have made enough of an impression on the Capitol. I hope that, by some miracle, we have an easy road ahead of us, where we get to be happy and together. I’ve always cared for her, but now she’s become absolutely indispensable to my life. I would die for her. Wiress stretches gently in my arms, still asleep. I can see her face now, see her dark eyelashes kiss her cheek. Her lips are relaxed into a natural pout that make me want to kiss her senseless. I’m so filled up with love for her at this moment that I have to close my eyes and just focus on my breathing. I never thought I would get to be happy. Not this happy, anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

_Beetee_

We spend most of the afternoon in bed, just talking and touching. There's more of the same the next day, as well as organizing the notes Wiress took in each district. She wants to build things to improve life in every single one, I'm not sure how likely it is that the Capitol would let that happen, but I'm proud of her anyway. We have forceful, desperate sex the night before we arrive in District 3, Wiress is anxious and works out her excess energy with me, which I can't complain about. She's so eager to feel close to me, to feel like she won't lose me. She tells me her fears afterward, every bad dream she's had since the Games, and how many involved President Snow killing me. I've been similarly afraid, there's a chance that us both being victors will keep us safe, but there's also the risk that he could use either one of us as a hold over the other. I can't lose her, and I would die before I let her get hurt. I hold her until her tears stop, and then we have sex again, her frenzied movements keeping her brain occupied.

Gunny is concerned about Wiress being very nervous returning to District 3 for the party, but I put my foot down about no more of the medication we didn't like. We've given plenty for the cameras thus far; I am not jeopardizing her mental health. Before we leave the train, I press her against the wall for a few desperate kisses, she reacts automatically, arms around me, lips insistent against mine. We always want each other. I leave a happy flush on her face and her mind dazed enough that she leaves the train calmly, her hand in mine. I squeeze her hand when we are in front of the whole District and lots of cameras, lots of flashing lights. I raise our joined hands like I did when we first arrived home. The cheers are deafening. Rather than flinching or being scared, Wiress beams, she's looking at my face rather than the crowd. When I lower our hands, she breaks free of my grip and leans on her tiptoes to kiss me in front of everyone. We make sure that we take long enough for a few good pictures. I'm unwilling to let go even after that. She moves her face away to give a joyful laugh, beaming and glowing and absolutely beautiful. The cameras will fall in love with her just as much as I have.

The mayor formally introduces us, it seems silly since we've both known most of these people all of our lives, but it's part of the ceremony. He then requests us to open the dancing. Wiress looks a bit wide eyed at that, dancing just the two of us, the center of attention. It's the sort of thing that makes her nervous. "Keep your eyes on me, love," I whisper. I talk to her throughout the dance, trying to keep her attention focused, off all of the people watching. I tell her about a new project I want to build, and I purposefully leave a few errors in what I say so she will correct me. The dance is over soon enough, and since her camera team is much less invasive than mine ever was, most of the pressure is off. The next dance, Wiress automatically has a partner. Nik had been at the edge of the dance floor, out of my field of vision, and he holds out his hand to Wiress, but she practically runs to him. He's smiling at her. I can tell how difficult it is for him, how his entire world is upside down. I can appreciate his quiet support, even though I know Wiress misses how close they used to be.

_Wiress_

My head spins as I dance with Nikola. His face has his old look on it, the one that is fond and parenting. He loves me; I'm still his baby sister. He just can't…handle this. At the end of the song, he kisses my forehead and smiles down at me. I smile widely back, just so happy to be near him. He squeezes my hand, then disappears into the crowd, but I'm happy again. I'm eager to enjoy this party. District 3 doesn't look the same. There are lights everywhere, fairy lights strung up between all of the buildings and criss-crossing over our heads. There are tables full of food and loud music to dance to. I'm a bit overwhelmed, but Beetee has my arm tucked under his so I feel very secure, he's not letting go anytime soon so it is safe for me to look around. Lots of people want photographs with me, but they all tend to want Beetee in the picture too, so I don't even need to let him go.

There are some songs I insist that we dance to, all of my favorites, most of which are slow and let me just sway in Beetee's arms. It's wonderful to feel so safe and warm because the man I love is holding me. At one point, I look up and Beetee's gazing down at me so tenderly that I almost think something is wrong. His eyes are soft and he looks so much more open than usual, and he kisses me fiercely, clinging to me. "You survived," He whispers. "We're celebrating that you survived." I think there are tears in his eyes. I wonder what it was like for him, up in that control room. How difficult it was for him to watch me, worrying every second that there might be a horrific death in store for me just around the corner. He rests his forehead against mine, and I can hear the clicks of camera shutters as they catch our private moment.

"I'm alive, Beetee. You saved me," I whisper. One of his hands leaves my waist so he can trail his thumb over my cheek. I wonder if how he would have handled coming back, if I hadn't survived. If he and Nik could ever manage to be friends again. Beetee is so fragile in this way, blames himself for everything. I've never seen him face a dead tribute's family without flinching.

"I could have lost you, Wire. That would have been…" he searches for an apt word. "Hell." His eyes are piercing into mine, It's very intense. "I can never take you for granted. You even being alive is a gift." I tilt my head so our lips meet.

"We both…" He waits patiently while I regain focus. "…beat the odds. We fought to reach each other." I kiss him again, and then again, and then I wish I wasn't the guest of honor so that I could pull him into a dark corner, or even just go home. Instead, I dance with lots more people and my feet end up hurting so I kick off my shoes and I drink champagne and hug everyone I can, for once not minding people touching me.

I think I get a bit drunk.

By the time we are allowed to leave, I can't find my shoes. Beetee shakes his head, laughing, and picks me up instead of searching. "Let's go home, love," he says, still smiling. I snuggle my face against his shoulder, enjoying this demonstration of strength. He's always so underestimated, but people never see this. He's not the showoff type.

"I love you, Beetee," I tell him as he carries me. We're almost home. "I think you're awesome." He laughs quietly. "Let's go home."

"Where did you think we were going?" There's amusement in his voice, maybe I'm not making as much sense as I think I am. Maybe I am pretty drunk.

"Let's go to bed," I request, then my eyes close and I drift off.

_Beetee_

Wiress is asleep in my arms as I carefully open the door to our house. She doesn't stir until I lose my grip on the door and it slams behind us. Her eyes fly open and she pushes away from me to get on her feet. Her eyes are only wild for a moment before she really sees me, and calms down. "Sorry, Wire." She nods, smiling sheepishly. I hold out my hand and she takes it happily so we can head upstairs together. I help her out of her dress, and she's asleep the moment she hits the bed. I can't help but smile at her shut eyes. I'm really the only person who gets to see her like this. She doesn't let her guard down around other people.

This entire night, I've been stuck in my own head, stuck thinking about how close I came to losing her. She could have just been in the wrong place when the gong sounded, hit by a stray arrow or knife while she ran. None of her smarts could have prevented that. She wouldn't have had many defenses against mutts, if the gamemakers had decided the show she was putting on wasn't good enough. She would be dead right now. I stroke the side of Wiress' face, curling my fingers around her jaw line. She's so lovely with the moonlight hitting her sleeping face. I shut my eyes and hope against hope that we will stay safe.

The next day, it doesn't really register that we're free of any Games duties for a while. I feel on edge, as though there's something I should be preparing for. I'm antsy and pacing, but then Wiress comes downstairs in just a long shirt, and she gets me smiling again. We're still exhausted from last night, so not much happens, but she is absolutely adorable, and we end up on the couch with her in my arms. I move her hair so I can kiss the back of her neck. "I want to chop it all off," Wiress tells me. "Get rid of all of it."

I tip her face gently so she can see that I've raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

She nods enthusiastically. "I need to do something, you know? They got rid of all my scars, they dressed me as a doll, now I get to own myself again. I need to do something." I kiss her, a reward for getting out such a complex thought as well as for the sentiment.

"I love you, Wiress. We can ask around for someone who knows what they're doing." She smiles at me and steals another kiss.

She gets her wish a few days later. She's delighted by her new shag, constantly running her hands through it. I think she looks amazing, but then again, she always does. The change gives her lots of excited energy, something I can't complain about because she's using it to pull me up the stairs into our bedroom. "Bee…" she pants, "Bee, I need you, I need you so badly right now…" She grins to make up for her lack of words. I can see the desire in her eyes, and I try my hardest to reflect it back to her. I need to touch her tonight. She shoves me down to the bed, and starts to undress me, making a mock angry face and shaking her head every time I try to move to help. Shoes and socks first, then she crawls up the bed to slip her warm hands under my shirt. I lean up for a quick kiss before she pulls the shirt over my head. She makes appreciative sounds at my chest, as if she hasn't seen it several hundred times before, and kisses each rib in turn. Then, Wiress' skilled hands get to work on my pants, the angle making the buttons more difficult. She still refuses to let me help.

"Wiress, I could do it." She shakes her head and practically rips at the fly to open my pants.

"See? I did it." She smiles in triumph. I'm very quickly naked and quite at her command. I love her so goddamn much, and this is just one example of how well suited we are. I'm perfectly comfortable with her, with trusting her. I'm not even really self-conscious about my body anymore. She loves me. Even more, she _likes_ me. Wiress pulls off each article of clothing she's wearing, one by one, making eye contact the whole time. When she's completely bare, she looks at me with a small amount of uncertainty in her eyes, I think she craves reassurance. I hold my arms out to her and smile.

"You are so beautiful, Wiress. So astoundingly gorgeous." She smiles and crawls up into my arms, pressing her body against mine, making me moan. "So sexy," I whisper into her neck between small kisses. Her hands are busy below my waist, her head is thrown back from my attention to her neck, and I'm hit with an amazing moment where I can hardly believe that I am so lucky, that I am with this woman. Very quickly, I can't think at all anymore, because we've begun to move, and all I can do is feel. Wiress straddles me and slowly pulls me inside of her, sliding down as she adjusts to being filled. She bites her lower lip and whimpers, her eyes closed. I lightly place my hands on her hips, not applying any pressure, not forcing her down before she's ready, just touching her like my body is screaming out to do. I'm overwhelmingly turned on. She smiles at the feel of us lining up perfectly, and she opens her eyes to see me, large blue eyes full of happiness.

"Beetee, I love you…" She leans down to kiss me. "Love you, handsome." She rocks her hips slowly, keeping me deep inside her. She sighs, gently stroking my cheek.

"Wiress…" I can barely get out words, she has me strung so tight. "I need you, please…" She laughs, apparently overjoyed that she got me to beg. She is kind, though, and obeys. Now I hold her hips as she moves above me, grinding down on my pelvic bone for her own pleasure. I know I'm talking, but I honestly don't even know what I'm saying. Probably words about loving her and how beautiful she is and how amazing this feels, but put in some nonsensical order. I can't possibly think straight when she _moves_ like this and touches me so wonderfully. With her above me, we're in the best position for her to orgasm, I can easily touch her and watch her beautiful face. We've gotten to the point of knowing each other's bodies so that it doesn't take long to get there unless we want it to, but she is rotating her hips desperately, so I think she wants it now.

"Bee…" she whimpers. "You…" I'm not sure what she means to say, but she focuses, hands clenching slightly. "You are the most…" She jolts at a particular touch. "…most amazing man I have ever met. You are brilliant…handsome…kind. I'm so in love with you…" She barely gets the last word out before she can no longer speak coherent words, her eyes are shut and she moans. She's sexier than any of my fantasies ever managed to be. The second she comes to her senses, she gets a lusty glint in her eyes and she focuses on getting me to my climax. It's honestly not difficult at all.

"So…your hair, huh?" I tease, as we lay together afterwards. She laughs. "We'll cut it more often. Shave you bald. Whatever gets you going." She hits me lightly, playfully.

"Partly the hair. I feel like myself again. Not the Capitol's. But mostly you. You get me going." She kisses my neck, making me feel warm and fuzzy and perfectly happy. "I need to refuel," she jumps out of bed, avoiding my teasing grab at her. "Sandwiches! Ooh and cocoa!" She pulls on the bare minimum of clothing and is halfway downstairs before I'm even out of bed.

_Wiress_

I'm so glad that all of the Victory Tour things are over. Panem says I'm an adult. I've killed enough people to earn making my own decisions. I'm free. Well, semi-free. I have to mentor. And I may have to repay 'favors'. So, not free at all. But I'm not on a train anymore, so there's that.

Beetee and I get into a lovely rhythm with our days. We spend time in the workshop, we go for walks, usually I cook but sometimes he does, we make love very often. I have a lot of correspondence and it sometimes takes me several days to finish one letter because my brain jumps from thought to thought and I have one sentence to write in one letter, and a paragraph for a different one. That's why I like writing letters, though, letters are patient and they don't mind if it takes a while for me to gather up what I mean to say. One of us checks in on Nik about every two or three days. He speaks to me, isn't rude or angry, but we don't feel close anymore. Of all the things the Hunger Games took from me, I miss the loss of Nik more than any other, even the loss of my innocence. Still, his appearance at the District 3 party made me feel hopeful. He's working at it, trying to look at me and see his baby sister. Trying to look at Beetee and see his childhood best friend. Someday, the three of us might be _the three of us_ again.

My space in Beetee's workroom is meticulously organized, a product of my childhood desire to impress him. I'm quite glad for it now, as my scattered brain can still find its way around. I separate all of my notes from the Tour so I can research and work on my ideas for improvements, machines. Beetee told me that the Capitol might not manufacture my creations, might not _want_ to make the Districts safer or more productive, but I have to try. There were plenty of Capitol devices like the ones my stylists used that I could improve. If the Capitol assumes those are _all_ I'm working on, they wouldn't even know about my inventions. It's a terrifying but intriguing idea. It isn't long before I'm experimenting with levers and possible prototypes for the coal lift I started designing after visiting District 12.


	12. Chapter 12

_Wiress_

Beetee's birthday is only two days before the Reaping this year. I want to do something for him, but we're both already bundles of nerves for the Games. I insist on beginning my mentoring training right away. I will only be more anxious and upset if we put it off, if I have a whole year to think and worry. Marks joins us so he can mentor one tribute, and Beetee and I team up for another. With this in mind, I simply make his favorite meals and spend the day with him. "Twenty four," I whisper in his ear as we cuddle on the couch.

"Sounds so old." He scowls teasingly. I roll my eyes.

"Only compared to me." Being quiet and domestic is probably a good idea for our celebration, because the activities of the Games are going to be loud and stressful and hard on us both. I won't be cooking, we won't be in the workshop, we might not even get much time together. I try to push all thoughts of the Capitol out of my mind so we can just enjoy this day, my best friend and lover's birthday. Beetee senses my nerves, but I don't let him talk about it. It's going to be awful no matter what, I don't have to start worrying now. When I feel like I might want to cry, I climb into Beetee's lap instead. "I love you," I whisper into his ear. Since it's both comfort and celebration, it quickly turns into sex, but then again, everything turns into sex with us lately. I really like that.

The pleasure of that day holds me through to the Reaping. Sitting up on that stage is horrible, the reality of it hits me as I gaze at the sea of children. No one is ever safe. It could be you or a friend or your child or a friend's child. Every single year. It's overwhelming and my head is swimming and I start to feel my brain run away but Beetee squeezes my hand and my brain comes right back in order to feel it, and I focus on his touch and the fact that he is right next to me and I can smell him, smell that wonderful spicy essence that I love so much. I know my big eyes make me look childish and I probably appear weak up here, weak in front of the cameras, but I am going to do everything I can to stay strong for these children.

I don't recognize either name that is called, which is a relief. When they are on the stage, though, they are absolutely _covered_ in the blood-that-isn't-there. I'm still trying to work out what it means, but this can't be a good sign. I squeeze Beetee's hand so hard that he has to stroke my wrist with his other hand, soothe me into letting go. Inside the Justice building, I kiss him fiercely. I remember all of the differences between this year and last year. I'm not the tribute. I'm safe. Beetee is safe. We're on the other side of things this time. I'm already starting to think in the cruel way the Capitol forces you to, the 'it isn't me' that is the only way you can make it through this every year without going insane. Just…if I can only protect two people, it will end up being Beetee and me. If I could only protect one, it would be Beetee.

I try my hardest to focus as we prepare the tributes. Omega is a strong girl, full of fight. If it were a matter of sheer will, she would be the victor for sure. We spend the time on the train talking, getting to know her strengths, figuring out a strategy. Marks is having similar success with Fillip, but we can't gauge how much since we are training separately. Beetee and I are almost always touching; I can make myself focus pretty well as long as his arm is draped over my shoulders or his hand is flat on the small of my back. As the "adults" present, we and Marks try to keep up a lively conversation at dinner, make Fillip and Omega feel comfortable and at home. It's worth the extra effort to see them relax, to actually get a small laugh out of Omega. For at least one of them, these are their last days and we don't want them full of fear. I catch Marks watching me sometimes, and when I meet his eyes, he gives me a sad smile. I bet he's thinking of his daughter. I try to spend time with him, and he seems to be comforted by not being alone, even if we are all silent. We spend our evenings in the common room, easily accessible if the tributes need us. Marks at the table involved in his word puzzles, Beetee and I on the couch, reading or talking. It's a family atmosphere.

_Beetee_

I was terrified on Wiress' behalf during the Reaping. She still relives the horrors of her Games vividly enough that she strikes out at me in her sleep. She still sees visions of blood everywhere. She still is in real danger from the Capitol. I have been feeling like we're on the precipice of disaster, and I don't know how to avoid it. I don't have the political savvy or knowledge of how to use charm to figure out what we should do or say. I am absolutely powerless to protect the woman I love, just as much now as I was last year when her name was called.

I force Wiress to rest after the Reaping. She wants to be strong and to push herself, but thankfully she remains aware that this is a matter of life and death, so she leaves me alone to speak with Omega, who is likely already stressed enough without Wiress becoming agitated in front of her. I find Omega in her room, sitting on her bed with the door open and a radio on set to static. It's almost funny. District 3, where static is considered calming white noise. "How are you managing?" I ask her. She had been staring into nothingness, but startled at the sound of my voice.

"Numb. I feel so numb. I feel more cold than scared." I nod and cover her shoulders with a blanket.

"That's shock. It's to be expected. Dinner will be out shortly. Food will help." She looks up at me, still lost in thought and barely registering my words.

"I always thought I'd die peacefully, when I was old. Or even in some sort of accident, but it would be quick." She frowns. "Not days of torture and fear and hiding and all of this…first."

"Are you giving up already?" I try to keep my voice light. I can't blame her. She has so few choices left, if this is her decision, well…it would be better to know now. So we could put our effort and resources behind Filip instead.

"No. Not at all." Omega's eyes flicker down, unwilling to meet my gaze. "Not giving up, but it would be really nice to go to bed tonight and just not wake up. So much easier. Less stressful." She sniffs, but everything about her is still calm, no tears. That's shock for you. "No, I'll fight. I think I'd kill someone if I had to." She pauses, then shrugs. "Actually, if I _could_. Of course I'd _have to_ , in the arena."

In my time mentoring, I was always in charge of the boy, at the moment I have no idea how to even touch her to comfort her since she is a girl who isn't Wiress. I rest my palm very very lightly on her shoulder, try to give her some strength that way. It doesn't stop me from feeling very useless and awkward. Omega sniffs again, this time hastily rubbing her hand against her eyes to make sure they're dry. "Do I…do I need to dress up for dinner or something?" I leave her side in order to open the closet doors and show her what's available. The capitol has a pretty good idea of what they'll get out of District 3, so everything is sized in small, very small, or tiny, and there are a lot of dusty colors so our ashen and smoke covered skin tones don't stand out.

"It doesn't hurt to look nice. Usually makes the Capitol people happy. Which gets you money." I hold a few things up, trying to entice her into showing some interest. This numbness will only be a hindrance soon. It's sometimes better when the kids have a crying jag right away and get it out of their system. "There are going to be a lot of nice things in the next few days, and you should really take advantage of it, as shallow as it may seem."

"I'd prefer my life back, but I'll take what I can get." She picks up a dress at random. She stares at the soft fabric in her hands, and I am halfway to the door before she speaks again. "Thank you." I nod. Her eyes glaze over as I watch her, so I just leave.

Wiress gets herself outwardly calm before dinner with the tributes. I'm proud of how put together she seems, I know for a fact that she will be weeping in my arms tonight, but I doubt that Omega and Filip have any clue. Hopefully they just see the newest victor, tangible proof that winning is possible.

We eat in almost perfect silence. There's nerves and fear on their part, and a dislike of getting too attached on ours. It is a relief when Gunny pushes us into the television area to watch the Reaping recaps. District 3 gets more screen time than usual, thanks to Wiress. The cameras seem to spend every extra second on the two of us, on her leaning in to whisper in my ear, on our hands clasped between our chairs, on the way I steady Wiress' shoulders when she stands. Caesar says some silly and cheesy things about us, but out of the corner of my eye, I see Marks smile slightly so I think it must be effective. Omega began watching the Reapings sitting between Wiress and I, Wiress' slim arm over her shoulder, but her demeanor changes as each district's ceremony goes flashing by. She ends up sliding off the couch onto the floor so she can focus on the screen better and I make a mental note to talk to her style team about an eye exam. Long hours in dark factories working on small pieces really do a number on your vision. She stays there on the ground, leaning against the couch, for a while after the recaps are over. Wiress bites her lip and hovers uncertainly, but I draw her away and wait for Omega to speak on her own. We've settled down at the table before Omega chooses to speak.

"I can do this." Wiress jumps slightly at the unexpected voice. Omega is standing, looking almost serene.

"Yes, I really think you can," I tell her, hoping I sound at least a bit wise. I do sincerely think she could win, but I remain very, _very_ aware of the odds.

"I pictured myself killing every single one of those people." She lowers her voice slightly. "Even Filip." She only seems a little unhappy about the last part. Really, the sooner a tribute accepts the thought of killing, the better. Once that gong rings, there's no time for moral dilemmas, and while I know there's at least one victor who didn't actually kill anyone, I can't imagine the game makers letting _that_ happen ever again. "I pictured it, I think I could do it, when I have to. I'll fight to live." She is still calm, but her eyes are a little wider, asking for support that this is the right way to feel.

"That's the necessary attitude," Wiress says, nodding slowly. "Choosing you battles is important too, that's strategy, but…"

"…You might as well get comfortable with the thought of killing now," I finish. Omega flashes us a small, sad smile.

"I just want to live…" she shakes her head, "it sounds so dumb, I mean of course I do and of course they all do too, but I'm not letting the chance to live get away from me."

"Good girl," Wiress approves. Then, in a move that surprises me, she envelopes Omega in a big hug. "That's the fighting spirit we need."


	13. Chapter 13

_Beetee_

Something feels weird about being back in the Training Center, our Capitol suite. We're always on the third floor, they never change that around, so we're able to leave some of our own things, have some say in the way things are decorated. It feels safer, less foreign now that I see Wiress' hairbrush in our bathroom. There's also a framed photograph of us in the living room. It makes me smile even though I'm exhausted. I wonder if it was Gunny's idea, or Marks'.

Wiress is chatting with our tributes. She might not be the best conversationalist, but she really seems to be putting them at ease. I'm struck, once again, by how young she is. It's so easy to forget. She would still be young enough to be reaped, were she eligible again. I can't take my eyes off of her. She takes a few snapshots of the tributes, explaining that they will want these "before" shots to compare when they return from their style teams. "You probably won't like your look after," she says ruefully, "but it's done for affect. You'll have to trust."

I can tell she's using up all of her energy and strength in front of the tributes, can tell that she's empty inside and too tired to even cry. Marks suggests that we all make an early night of it and the tributes shuffle off to their rooms. We're not far behind, I take Wiress' hand and remind myself that she isn't the tribute this year. She's not in any physical danger and that needs to be enough for me. She climbs into bed and looks at me with blank eyes. I wish, so much, that I could shield her from this. She falls asleep curled up in my arms.

_Wiress_

Our tributes are taken away early in the morning to prep for the Tribute Parade. I'm still not sure what angle will work best for Omega, different strategies flow through my brain and I don't know which, if any, will be most effective. She needs potential sponsors to remember her, but also, she needs the gamemakers themselves to like her, to approve. Every moment we're in the Capitol, I have four or five reminders of how artificial everything is. Even the people here are scrubbed down, rid of all scars and birthmarks and pimples and distinguishing marks, just to have the lines and dots drawn on again. Their everyday lives are artificial, and the Games…they're much more so.

I won because I played the game well, put on a good show. They were happy with my actions, so they didn't need to foil me. I cast my mind to the Hunger Games I can remember, and I can't remember any district winning two years in a row. For a district like ours to do that, everything will have to be in her favor. She'll need to be a perfect little Capitol pawn if she wants to survive the gamemakers as well as the other tributes.

I told the tributes to trust their stylists, I will have to trust them, too. Perhaps an obvious strategy will appear when they are dressed and ready. I've spent my short amount of free time thinking this over, and it's given me a stress headache. Beetee is no stranger to those, so he gently rubs my scalp and attempts to soothe me before Fisk pulls me away for my own turn at being plucked and prodded and waxed and scrubbed. I handle the initial cleanses well enough; I hate the ash and smoke that seeps into your pores in District 3. It _never_ really washes away there. The creams they rub into my skin are actually soothing and I do appreciate how smooth they make my feet. That's all rather nice. I'm calm, or perhaps just distracted, until they place me in a chair in front of a mirror and they shine dozens of lights over every inch of me. Under the hot lights, my brain freezes up and replays from the last time I was in this position. Last year. Part of my brain _knows_ this is different, I am safe right now, but my thoughts race and my heart speeds up and I gasp for air but my body has panicked and I can't breathe deep enough. I'm going back. I'm going into the arena. I'm going to hurt and bleed and die. Through the haze of fear, I can hear the style team's shouts. I hear "emergency" and "victor" and "anxiety", but the angry voices blend together until someone says that magic word: Beetee.

He shows up almost immediately, perhaps because his preparations are less strenuous or perhaps because I can't keep proper track of time in the state I'm in. He cradles me in his lean arms, not caring that I'm naked. I attempt, with my clumsy, halting words, to explain what happened, but I'm not sure I do more than make nonsense sounds. He still meets my eyes, his calm, caring face proving that I don't need to be upset. He talks me down off my emotional ledge, and stays with me until my breathing has calmed and I can speak actual sense again. "Your hair is short now," he whispers in my ear. "If you get confused, if you can't remember whether you are a tribute or a mentor, check your hair." I had already put my foot down with Fisk about no wigs or extensions, my short hair was me and my own and the tiniest piece of rebellion, the only one I could manage. Now, it would keep me sane. Keep me from mentally regressing to the fear and anxiety of last year. Beetee stays and holds my hand for a few minutes, just making sure that I'm alright. "Sorry I have to leave you, they need to dress me." He makes a face and it makes me giggle because he's pretty lucky when it comes to clothes, a dark, traditionally cut suit for pretty much every event.

I am forced into a tight fitting gown, very low in the front with a full, but not puffy, skirt. I guess they want to show me off to the sponsors, now that eating enough has filled me out, given me some curves. I decide that no matter what, I am going to be attached to Beetee completely tonight. If this dress is meant to advertise me as a commodity, I will remind them that we are their couple. Their favorite couple. The styling team doesn't release me until moments before the mentors are going to be announced, so I don't get to appreciate Beetee before we're pushed into the bright lights. I only get a moment to see the awestruck expression on his face. It was different than the way he normally looks at me, even when he thinks I'm beautiful. There was something _more_. Everyone waves, and I sit as soon as we're allowed to, eyes trained on the doors our tributes will shortly ride through.

"Did you tell your styling team?" Beetee hisses through his teeth, keeping a smile on his face for the cameras.

"Tell them what?" I don't have to bother as much as Beetee, I had never been much of a smiler. My wide eyed look of confusion is probably exactly the same one I wore during my winner interview.

Beetee dips his head to mine, pointing at nothing as though he is explaining something to the newest mentor. I've already seen our faces projected on the large screen at least once. "Told them our plan, our strategy. For _us_."

"No. They just dressed me like this. I…" I lick my lips. "I know it's revealing, but you could just hold me all night…it shouldn't be a problem…" Beetee looks at me, confusion etched between his eyebrows.

"You don't understand what you're wearing." It's a statement, not a question, and he massages that wrinkled spot between his brows. "What are they doing…" he murmurs. He looks up at me and takes pity on my ignorance. "Do you remember any of the photoshoots you did after you won?" I shake my head no. Everything was a blur, at least until Beetee told me he loved me. I was dressed up like a doll plenty of times, and my memory is full of camera flashes, but every time I try to catch a specific memory, it flutters away like a bird. "You did a promotional series of photographs. All about being so grateful to the Capitol that you have this new life." I roll my eyes, and he smiles in agreement. "Clearly, they wrote all the quotes themselves. There was one about the food, one for the music and nightlife…all sorts of things. One celebrating that you'll get to be on television every year. Maybe they'll put you in that dress for the interviews." He looks down at his hands. He seems embarrassed to tell me the next part, the important part.

I smooth out the fabric of my skirt and try to focus my memories while I wait for him. The fabric is silky, a dusky rose color. The neckline shows off my entire collarbone and entirely too much cleavage, although it's nothing by Capitol standards. Beetee looks up again, but still won't meet my eyes. "The most popular one showed how pleased you were that you would be able to live and someday get married. Have kids. You wore this dress." His reminder clicks something within me, and I get a hazy memory of a rude male model unwilling to touch me, a casserole dish I was supposed to be holding that I dropped and all the fake food fell out. Someone demanding that I act like I was the hostess at a dinner party and Beetee telling them to stop shouting at me. I'm quiet long enough that Beetee meets my eyes. The hum of the entire stadium chatting fills my ears, and I don't have anything to say.

"You looked young and innocent at your interview, then as the Victory Tour happened, your clothes became more serious and sophisticated. By the big Capitol party, you had transitioned into an adult. A beautiful woman," he adds the last part so I won't interrupt him. "They were probably going for something symbolic with this. Your transition into womanhood. But now, instead, they made you a _wife_."

I try to gather thoughts to reply, but the anthem begins to play, signaling President Snow's arrival. We stand and applaud at the appropriate points, but the parade has already started by the time I connect what Beetee just said with the look on his face when he saw me. He wasn't confused or worried or upset when he saw me. He was almost…blissful. He saw me symbolically dressed as a wife, and it had made him give me a loving and awestruck look. My lips curl into a smile without me trying, which is convenient because our tributes have just entered the stadium and my face is being projected on the screen. The camera pans to Beetee, whose smile is much more planned, and then to Marks with his trademark blank face. Our tributes look strong. I'm very proud of them, pieces of metal covering them like armor. They could be anything, but clearly something tech-related. I just like that they look a bit like old fashioned knights. I think my smile could pass for a strategy, a mentor feeling strong this year.

Back in the suite, we congratulate Omega and Filip on their performance, and they head right to bed. I think Beetee wants to talk about the styling team, but I can't help myself. The moment we are alone, I kiss him hard. All I can picture is the look on Beetee's face, the longing and hope that I only got to see for a second but is etched into my brain forever. I press my body into him, pushing us up against the living room wall. He moans softly into my mouth, hands roaming to cup my butt. I move my mouth over his jaw line, work my way up to whisper in his ear. "I can't get enough of you." Beetee chuckles softly. The longing is still in his eyes. I wish I knew what it meant. I have ideas, of course, but my brain slides around in my head and my thoughts slide around in my brain so the fact that he loves me is a permanent fact but everything else is liquid sometimes. Beetee pulls me in for another kiss, the tip of his tongue slipping between my lips. He has me in the palm of his hand.

"Oh!" I pull my head back at the abrupt sound. Omega is there, standing in the doorway in pajamas. "I'm sorry." Her eyes are large, and I'm glad we don't need to quickly rearrange any clothing.

"Don't be sorry," Beetee says, pushing up his glasses. "We were in the public room, it was rude of _us_." We've separated, but he's still holding onto my hand. "Do you need anything?" Omega tilts her head slightly, I think she's considering what she's comfortable asking from us.

"I couldn't sleep, I came out for water…" She pauses. "Could someone keep me company? Just for a little? Until I calm down?"

I close my eyes, remembering my terror last year. And I had Beetee. My Beetee. "I'll stay with you as long as you need," I tell her. I grab a couple bottles of water and take her back to her room, smiling my "see you later" to Beetee. Omega climbs into bed, hesitating until I climb on the bed too, sitting cross-legged at the foot, facing her. I want to be close to comfort but not pushy. I'm seventeen, but I'm pretending to be an adult.

"I'm sorry I'm taking you away," she starts. I shake my head.

"He's…patient." I've been so good with my words all day, I don't like that they're beginning to run away from me now. The blood-that-isn't-there is beginning to wash up my fingertips. "This is more important." My skirt billowed out around me when I sat, and I rub the hem between my fingers so I will focus. "How do you feel?"

Omega knows what I mean, knows I am asking beyond the obvious. "We only briefly saw the other tributes. It's all so scary." I nod.

"The big ones, in particular." I wonder if she saw my Games last year. The Capitol requires that every house have it on, but sometimes people can't bear to actually watch. Omega seems a little soft hearted despite her practicality. "They don't always win," I simplify.

"I know." Omega looks up at me, unsure. "Do you… _mind_ talking about it? How you felt?" Her hands are trembling. I reach for her, hold her hand tight.

"I can tell you…" I swallow, deciding what I can say that will be true without terrifying her. "There's so much chance involved…being in the wrong place. My traps, anyone could step wrong. Even the careers."

Omega nods. "You made the most kills in Hunger Games history." My hand goes limp.

"I did?" No one told me that. Or, maybe Caesar did, at my interview. I have no idea what anyone said that soon after the Games. Why didn't Beetee tell me? "How many?"

Omega looks surprised that I didn't know. "Eleven. I mean, you tied. Tied for most kills. But for District 3? It was a huge deal." She tries to see my face, hidden in my hair. "You didn't know?"

"I didn't know the number." I school my features back to blankness. "But you see what I mean. I didn't even have to be present for most of my kills." The word 'kills' brings bile to my throat. I swallow it down, trying to appear normal, soothing, for Omega. "Luck wasn't on their side, and intelligence _was_ on mine."

"And you had Beetee to mentor you." I nod, picking up a brush on the bedside table and motioning for her to turn. By now, I'm practically an expert in how to calm people down. Soothing rhythmic motions, human contact. I pull my fingers through her hair to get out tangles before using the brush.

"Now you also have Beetee," I remind her, "and me as well. And Marks in a pinch." She's quiet for a little bit, leaning into the brushstrokes. The imaginary blood is paler now, my hands have faded pink. I keep trying to wipe them off so I don't get Omega's hair bloody. It still disturbs me no matter how not-real I know it is. When I'm finished with her hair, she lays back into the bed.

"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" I promise her I will. It's not a difficult promise, she's exhausted, both physically and mentally worn out, and she is asleep within minutes of turning out the light. I hold my shoes in my hand and leave her room as quietly as possible. Beetee's not in the living room anymore, so I head to the room we've been sharing.


	14. Chapter 14

 

_Beetee_

Wiress is back before too long, joining me where I sit on the bed. Seeing her dressed up like that tonight was a bit of a shock. She looked absolutely stunning, but the symbolism was there, that she was married, a helpmate, a wife. Not available. Was it too over the top? Will President Snow blame us, use her to prove that he still calls the shots? Or maybe, just maybe, they were told to use that outfit, as a sign that she was taken. That the Capitol approves of our relationship. I’ve seen enough in the Capitol to know that we’ve been good television. I don’t know what to think.

Wiress gently rubs my back as I shuffle through these thoughts. I’m all over the place, mentally, but she’s patient, willing to wait for me to speak first. 

“She asleep?” Wiress nods, still running her hands over my back in circles. “Good. Training will probably take a lot out of her.”

“We’ll need to advise her in the morning. What stations…” Wiress’ voice is soft, overwhelmed with our burden. Omega’s life is at least partially in our hands.

“Let’s hope there’s a weapon station that she is good at. And fire, of course,” I gently tease her. Wiress is hopelessly unable to start a fire with anything less than a blowtorch. Truthfully, I’m not much better. It’s not as though anyone from District 3 has much experience with fire, even those homes lucky enough to have fireplaces are run with electricity. Fire and sparks are usually a sign of something wrong. Usually. The sparks I’m feeling right now as Wiress leans on my back and nestles her face into my shoulder? Those are good sparks.

“Did you want to talk about earlier?” Wiress mumbles into my shoulder. “The dress and everything…”

I shrug softly, so I don’t dislodge her. “I don’t know what it means. There are too many possibilities. We’re playing a game we don’t really know the rules for, trying to please the Capitol. Our goal is to be left alone, but if they end up liking us _too_ much, our lives will continue to be a show.”

Wiress readjusts herself so she is sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching me. I’m not sure if she thought through all the possibilities I did, because she seems confused. “How?”

“You’ve seen how they treat their celebrities. They’ll continue to make decisions for us, they’ll want to see us married, see our daily lives, see our children. And they’ll want it all _soon_.”

“I’m a kid, still,” she shrugs. “So are you. We’re young.” I don’t point out the obvious. District lives are short. Unhealthy conditions, not much food, no freedoms. Children go to the academy and work in the factories. Marriage around twenty, and then children, the Capitol wanted as many and as quickly as possible. More future factory drones. Forty or fifty years of difficult work, putting together small pieces in dark rooms while breathing in smoke and ash. As victors, we’ve traded our lives for more stressful ones, but also longer ones. ‘Young’ is a relative term and I’m halfway through the average District 3 life expectancy.

Wiress worries her lower lip between her teeth. I hadn’t meant to upset her, I just wanted to communicate the danger of our situation, wanted her to know I took her safety seriously. “They were willing to kill you, watch you kill, at this age. I doubt youth will protect you from marriage.” She frowns.

“I’m only seventeen…I just want my life back.” Her voice is soft, she knows how fruitless this line of thought is. “I want some choices of my own.” Her words and her gentle anger remind me of the discussion I had with Omega after the reaping. They remind me of my experiences in the arena as well. We’re all helpless and we’re all young. The best we can do is just be there for each other.

 

_Wiress_

Earlier, the thought of marrying Beetee had sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. Now, it is a shiver of fear. The only difference is whether it is forced or not, and _when_. The Capitol could turn it into a circus, the biggest show aside from the annual Games, they could shove cameras in our faces 24/7 and let the viewers vote on what alterations we should get for our big day. Something small and far off that I thought of happily could easily be made into the biggest farce of my life. It strikes me as ridiculous that all of these thoughts and realizations are due to a silly, pink, frilly _dress_. I can’t think of it anymore, I can only handle one thing at a time and right now the thing we will be handling is Omega and as she is asleep right now, I will instead focus on myself and what I want.

“I want you, Beetee.” I whisper into his ear. He shivers slightly.

“Wiress.” He turns so he can kiss me lightly. “I need you.”

I can’t think any more, not about the Games, anyway. My mind is overcome with thoughts of Beetee, his breath against my neck, the feeling of his hands firmly on my back. I stretch my neck to give him better access, and he nibbles his way along my pulse. His hands are moving, stroking and grounding me. I can’t float away like this. I can’t get lost in my own head. His teeth scrape along my collarbone, and I must make a sound because he stops immediately, looking for any pain or hesitation in my face. “No…was good,” I manage. “Felt good.” He smiles, then, reaching up to brush my hair from my face. His fingertips tingle against my skin, little tiny zaps of electricity, little jumps of my heart. His face looks open, honest. Needy like a child’s. I have an odd desire to cradle him in my arms and sing lullabies. We really are both children, growth stunted by the trauma of the Games, and I don’t want to think of us that way when I’m also rather eager for sex, but it is _true_ that our sex fulfills many needs and comfort is a pretty big one.

I pull him into a kiss, and he leans back and turns so we are both lying on the bed, bodies pressed against one another. I focus on the feeling of his mouth on mine until that’s all I can feel. He moves insistently, his lips pressing on and opening mine, tongue swiping inside. I halt our kisses to trace my lips to his ear, kissing the sensitive spot behind it, then trailing the very tip of my tongue along his lobe. He shudders. “I love you,” I whisper softly into his ear. His hand on my waist squeezes in reply. I kiss down his neck, throat, jaw, chin. I use my tongue again, this time against his Adam’s apple. Every little movement he makes in response makes me happy. “Oh Beetee,” I murmur into his skin. “So wonderful. You’re so wonderful.” I suck where his neck meets his shoulder, above his collarbone, carefully keeping to where his shirts cover. I want to leave a mark but I want it to be our secret. He pulls my body tighter to him, completely flush, our hips lined up, his erection hard against me. I don’t want to move apart from him for a moment, not even to thrust against him, so I circle my hips instead, rubbing him, coaxing a moan from his throat beneath my lips. I suck again at his throat, pulling his skin against my teeth. The love mark blooms exactly where I want it. I’ve marked him as mine.

He chuckles softly as I kiss his lips again. “It’s just going to heal and you’ll have to stake your claim again,” he chides.

I shrug. “As many times as it takes.” We’ve been kissing in bed so long that my dress is now completely flat and covered in wrinkles. I want it _off_. I can’t reach the zipper, and Beetee watches me struggle for a bit before I finally huff in frustration and ask for help. “Please?” I try to keep the whine out of my voice. It’s not sexy. He laughs endearingly and pulls the zipper down, placing a kiss on each shoulder before moving the corresponding strap off, then he allows the dress to drop to my feet. I fight the urge to cross my arms and cover myself slightly. I’m not ashamed of my body. I _want_ him to see all of me. Covering myself is just instinct. Instead I reach behind myself to unclasp the half bra thing they’d strapped me into, the thing that pushed me up and out and made the low cut dress look so appealing. Beetee’s undressing himself much too slowly for my taste, his eyes locked on my revealed skin. His fingers have paused midway through undoing his third button, hovering there as he watches me longingly.

“Love?” I approach him, reach out to help with the buttons.

“You’re beautiful, Wiress.” I sit next to him on the bed as I work, opening the fly of his trousers as well.

I ignore him, focus instead on working the fabric of his pants over his hips. It’s not long before I get exactly what I want: Beetee, naked and in our bed. He can’t help but fidget, toy with his glasses, even as I climb over him and kiss his naked shoulder, right below the love bite I gave him. “Sparks,” I murmur as I kiss down his chest. There are tendrils of bad thoughts sneaking into my brain, the troubles of our everyday life, and the only way I know how to fight them is to distract myself. I kiss lower, down to where his penis is nestled between his legs, hard and eager to be touched. I curl my hand around him as I kiss his thighs and lower stomach. When I finally touch him with my tongue, he moans. I have to pause a moment, the sound turns me on so much. I start to move again, letting his sounds guide me as I run my tongue along his length and flick it against the underside. Beetee’s hands slide into my hair, very careful not to pull, just to massage my scalp. I actually like him a little rough, but right now this tenderness is welcome.

“Please, Wire…” I don’t know if he’s asking me to stop or to continue. His breath hitches and his hips buck away from me. “I want to come inside you.” I slowly drag my lips up his shaft, releasing him. His eyes are closed, but he easily runs his hands up my thighs to pull at the elastic of my underwear. It’s off me quicker than you can blink, and his fingers are parting me, pushing inside me. I feel sexy and loved, straddling Beetee’s waist, bracing myself against his upper arms while he pumps his fingers within. His thumb circles my clit, forcing me to move my hips for any real contact. This isn’t the kind of touch that will make me come, this is the kind that makes me want desperately, the kind that makes me _beg._ He thrusts harder, and I can’t take it anymore.

“Beetee, _now_.” He pulls away his fingers, making me feel empty and unhappy, but pulls my body to his for a deep kiss, wrapping his arms around my lower back. His tongue skirts my teeth and he sucks my lower lip into his mouth for a moment. His dark eyes bore into mine as he turns us, rolling over onto my back, slipping his knee between my legs, keeping me wide open. “Now!” I hiss.

He thrusts into me with one stroke, rubbing softly at my clit to keep me ready. “Fuck!” he groans. I love when he curses, when he loses control around me. He’s still, eyes shut, concentrating, for my benefit or his, who knows, but I link my ankles behind his back, goading him into a rocking motion. That does amazing things to his thumb on my clit. Beetee’s breathing is shallow as he adjusts his position, leans on his arms by my sides. “Is this comfortable?” I nod.

“I love the way…you touch me.” I shudder while I speak, his cock pulsing inside me. He rotates his hips, pelvis now hitting where his thumb had previously. His lips are on my breast, tongue darting out every few kisses to lick the salt off my skin. He keeps peeking at my face to see what I’m enjoying as he finally reaches the peak and suckles gently at my nipple. “Fuck, sparks, yes!” Too many sensations. My careful cataloging of his touch goes to hell as I can’t tell them apart anymore. Any one of them could have set me off, but I come hard, muscles stiff and shaking, bearing down hard on his cock, arching my back to thrust my breast into Beetee’s mouth. He keeps moving inside me, but nestles his face in the crook of my neck while I catch my breath, only to suckle at my other breast before I am really calmed down. I feel the spiral of tension build again, I try to articulate this, but I don’t think I succeed. Beetee pushes into me harder now, hips hitting the insides of my thighs so that I think I will have bruises. That thought lights something within me, the same thing that made me mark him. I want physical evidence that I was his, I want the bruises and scratches and love marks. I drag my nails along Beetee’s shoulders, giving an example of how I want our sex to go, and he obeys me, biting slightly at the side of my breast. It’s perfect, and I think my laughter echoes in the room as I reach my second orgasm. I continue to feel everything, the way Beetee lifts his body above me, focused on his thrusts, on being forceful without harming me. I’m fully off my high by the time he begins to moan, and I eagerly thrust back up at him while watching his face, watching any last vestiges of composure unravel.

I guide him to collapse on top of me, to let his slack muscles relax as I lightly stroke his back with my nails. It’s a long time before either of us are willing to move. “That was…intense.” His voice is low, tired. I nod, smiling. Our bodies part stickily, our lovemaking somewhat messy. I don’t care. My muscles are sore and complaining. I don’t care. _Alive, we’re alive._

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

_Wiress_

Beetee and I send Omega off to training with few words of wisdom, just to try a little of everything and to keep an eye out for anything useful. It’s not exactly brilliant and I hate how powerless I feel as I give her a quick hug.

“Even more than the sponsors, we want the gamemakers to like you. They’re the ones who can save your life fastest. You’re photogenic and likeable, if they think you are also biddable and a useful tool for them, they can tip the scales of any fight in your favor.” I’m exhausted from getting out this complex thought, but it seems to have been enough. Omega nods thoughtfully.

I wish we had the day free to relax and strategize, but instead we’re part of the media frenzy. Beetee assures me that it calms down some in later years, I only need to do so many appearances because I’m the newest mentor, but every interview I see has at least two other victors there, fake smiles plastered on their faces. I try to answer questions, and when I can’t, Beetee helps me. It’s all fluff, really. Nothing we even have to think about. I keep getting distracted, there are blinking lights and bright colors and I wonder and I wander and Beetee keeps pulling me back towards him, towards the people asking me questions. We’re thrown together with Capitol citizens more than once, important people who have clearly paid buckets for the privilege, but, as we had hoped, more of them seem interested in Beetee and I together than in getting either one of us alone.

“How has your life changed since becoming a victor?”

I blink at the lavender haired reporter. All of the careful, politic answers run out of my head. “I…I am busy now.”

“The victory tour and now mentoring, you know,” Beetee fills in smoothly, shooting her a charming smile. He’s better at this bit than I am, and I watch his mouth, willing my lips to turn up sweetly like his do.

“And the two of you mentoring together, how is that going for you?” She giggles, and I turn my head quickly to the sound. It was like glass shattering, sharp and harsh. Or maybe that was in my head. I rub my temples and check my hair. My hair is short. I am safe.

“I like working with Beetee…” I try to think of something less dull to say, but it also has to be something innocuous, something without a hidden meaning for the Capitol, something that won’t get us in trouble. Even these easy questions are exhausting to answer. “We know each other very well, he knows how I think. This has been so helpful as we plan,” I finish vaguely, looking to Beetee for help.

“I’m very excited to work with Wiress as my partner,” he says simply, and pulls me with him to the next reporter in our line.

_Beetee_

The tributes are quiet at the dinner table. Tired, perhaps. A bit downtrodden. I meet Marks’ eyes and he just gently shakes his head. He doesn’t know of anything happening either. Wiress chews at her bottom lip, not touching her food, too worried about these kids. I open my mouth to say something and she puts her hand on mine to stop me. Her shake of her head indicates that I should give them time.

“District 2 has the win.” Filip’s voice rings shrilling in the silence.

Wiress taps at his knuckles gently. “Don’t say that sort of thing out loud. Makes it real.”

“Why Two?” Marks asks.

“The boy, Warren, he’s huge, you should have seen him throwing stuff around. Weights and spears and axes and stuff. Then he aced the edible plants tests. So not just big and dumb. Then the girl, I don’t know her name…”

“Violet,” Omega fills in.

“Yeah. She’s really quick and almost as strong. She didn’t want to sit with the District 4 kids at lunch though, so maybe there won’t be much of a Career pack this year.” That would be a real blessing, but I still doubt it. They can indulge petty jealousies grudges now, but I bet her mentor has scolded her about it and reminded her that survival and winning will be more important in the arena.

“Anyone else stand out?” I ask him.

He taps his fork against the table. “Girl from Five, maybe. She jumped this one wall thing, as tall as she was. Might have been showing off though, her one skill. Boy from Ten. He lassoed a dummy.”

Wiress sighs. “Any hints about the arena?” Omega shakes her head.

“Plants at the stations were from all over. And none of the stations were suggestive, like snowshoeing or swimming.”

We eat in thoughtful silence after that.

We have a quick strategy session with Omega before she goes to sleep, advise her on useful stations. She said she felt comfortable with some of the pikes and spears, so I suggest she spend enough time on them that she will be able to get a high training score. “A high score can make a difference in the first day or so, with sponsors. Enough for a quick advantage.”

Wiress nods in agreement. “Keep an eye on District 1. You’ll be playing their game at the interviews. The perfect model of a victor, happy to be there and in love with everything ‘Capitol’.”

“I’ll practice my smile,” Omega promises.

The work during the sessions pays off, she does get an acceptably high training score, a six, so depending on what impression she makes during the interview, we might have a good chance at getting some additional sponsors. When we run practice questions, she slips in what a great opportunity this is for her and how much in the Capitol amazes her. Wiress worries that shifting the focus too much off of her fighting skills will make her look weak, but I think that’s where we just have to hope her training score means something.

The interviews require us to get dolled up again, particularly because the most recent victor is usually in a special spot, easily seen by the crowd and cameras alike. It’s not always the case, like when District 1 or 2 wins and they don’t begin to mentor right away, but I didn’t know who to ask to keep Wiress out of the spotlight, and I’m not sure we’d be willing to pay the price anyway. I’m just grateful that they seem to want to see us together, that I can hold her hand the entire time. They put me in a dark grey suit, very similar to everything else they have ever dressed me in. My style team is on the newer side, young and somewhat conservative. I have deep green accents, a tie, cufflinks, shoes, to match Wiress, I suppose. If she’s in green, it means she isn’t any of the dresses from her photoshoots, and I’d be grateful for that. I don’t want anything else complicated, no secret messages to or from the Capitol, no games to be played. I’m exhausted from being on my guard and speaking the Capitol doublespeak. I just want this to be over, to be home with Wiress, in our workshop or on the couch. Just alone with her, left alone.

I have a small moment to breathe and get my mind together before I’m pushed out into that crowd. I can hear them already, past the wide double doors where we will be announced. Without Wiress next to me to protect, I can admit to myself how horrified I am. The crowd sounds so happy, so excited, so eager to watch these children face death. Then, when one succeeds in facing down death and living anyway, they will be like us, like me. Trapped as a cog in the machine, forced to be a part of it forever, forced to play a game of politics and allies to save their families and sanity. I choke out a sob, but squash it quickly as Fisk leads out Wiress. She looks lovely, as always. Fisk gives her a theatrical, but fond, kiss above her cheek, not actually touching so as to save her makeup. “Don’t forget to smile bright, darling!” Fisk waves perfunctorily at me before leaving.

Wiress _is_ in green, a lovely forest color that emphasizes the paleness of her skin and the darkness of her hair. She looks almost like a statue made of marble. She smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes, there’s too much anxiety there. “They’re loud,” she murmurs.

“Yeah. There’s a lot of people in the stands.” She reaches out for me, and I take her hand. One of the things she actually enjoys about getting dolled up is that they make her nails nice. Right now they’re painted gold, and are extremely shiny. I remember how she used those lovely nails on my back the night of the tribute parade, and I smile. “Pretty,” I draw her attention to our interlocked hands and she smiles, a real smile this time.

“Rather impractical,” she tells me, “but yes, so very pretty.” Someone with a headset waves us over to the doors.

“Ready, Wire?” She takes a deep breath and nods, pulling her hand from mine and taking my arm instead.

The doors open, and we’re momentarily blinded by the number of lights. Caesar is announcing us but I can’t hear anything over the roar of the crowd. I’m stunned until the headset person from before gives me a gentle push. We step onto the stage, and the crowd seems to explode. The noise is deafening, and the lights are in our eyes keeping us from even seeing the masses. Wiress’ body is stiff next to mine, and she reaches up to touch her hair. Short hair. She’s a mentor this year, not a tribute. She’s comforted enough to turn the movement into a wave, and is rewarded with cheers. Caesar gives her air kisses and leaves his hand on my shoulder for a moment, then we’re led to our seats. The crowd calms for a moment, quieting enough that I can hear Wiress, hear the small hum she’s making under her breath. I want to wrap my arms around her, call her ‘love’ and ‘darling’ and kiss her until she doesn’t need to hum anymore. I’ve killed people and caused pain and the only penance I can do is to protect this one person, keep her safe and sane and happy. I adore her and I’m filled with pain to see her hurting.

She shuts her eyes for a moment, and seems calmer when they open again. “Beetee, stop staring,” she whispers. “The cameras are on us.” I turn to the stage, seeing our faces large on the screens for a moment before Caesar begins to talk and they show him again. “We have to pay attention. Don’t worry about me. Do this for Omega.” Wiress doesn’t sound okay, but she’s making sense, so I obey. I take mental notes on each  tribute, but there isn’t much to make note of. Everything seems so …usual. The District 1 tributes are the same gorgeous smug brats as usual, and I understand why Filip was afraid of District 2.

Omega looks very pretty, she speaks in a loud, clear voice and doesn’t seem afraid at all. If she wasn’t so skinny, she could pass as a District 1 tribute.

“What do you like best about the Capitol so far, Omega?” This is a pretty standard Caesar question, one we’ve prepared for. Omega smiles out at the crowd before answering.

“You’ll think this is a silly answer, but _the people!_ ” There’s applause. “Really, everyone is so gorgeous, I can’t tell the difference between a person on the street and a movie star!” The crowd is eating it up. The answer is double edged, of course, people back in District 3 might not like it, but they aren’t likely to gather any sponsor funds. They also might recognize it as buttering up the Capitol and not mind.

Filip is sadly forgettable, although I don’t know Marks’ strategy, maybe they _want_ him to fly under the radar. There’s nothing about either District 4 tribute that shows discord with the other careers. The District 5 girl Filip mentioned seems nervous and the boy from 10 is charming, but really nothing stands out to me. My mind blanks on any clever strategy, anything we can use in the arena so that the child in our care could live and these other children could die.

I’m absolutely exhausted, and Wiress can feel it. She pulls both kids into hugs as soon as we rejoin them, and herds us into our suite quietly. I’m just so worried and scared and overwhelmed and _drained_. Wiress pushes me down onto a sofa and pulls Marks into a chair of his own, and Gunny orders an avox to bring food.

“Some food and then sleep as soon as possible,” Wiress advises Omega and Filip.

“I don’t think I can eat or sleep.” Omega admits.

“We have something very mild we can give you for the sleep,” Wiress tells her. “But food…” She gathers her words together. “Food is important. You have to eat. Even if you vomit later, it will come up easier than just bile. But you might keep it and you need the energy in the arena. You’ll eat in the morning too.” I’m impressed by Wiress’ directions. They make sense, and she sounds firm and intelligent as she speaks. What’s more, the tributes listen to her. When the food arrives, they sit and fill their plates obediently. Marks joins me on the couch, mirroring my surprise.

“It feels odd that she should be _good_ at this,” he says. I agree.

“She’s very different in a tight situation than she is in day-to-day life.” I think of her calm when she was confronted in that clearing during her Games. How she was able to draw out that conversation without anyone knowing her plan to kill the tribute behind her, without anyone knowing her trap. She is capable of holding herself together when necessary, of keeping her fear and worry in an iron grip until she is safe enough to fall apart. It’s just that… I think that’s part of what makes it so much worse for her when she can fall apart. She’s paying a toll in order to help our tributes and there is a horrible part of me, deep inside, that wishes she wouldn’t. A part that is willing to send these children to their deaths scared and alone if it means keeping Wiress safe, calm, anxiety and fear free. I watch Wiress fuss over the kids and I feel deeply ashamed.


	16. Chapter 16

_Wiress_

I don’t want to open my eyes in the morning. I try to pretend it’s just any other morning, I roll over and cuddle into Beetee’s back, spooning him. I press my face into the thin material of his shirt and breathe deeply, comforted by his familiar smell and warmth. He mumbles something as he wakes, and stretches each limb slowly. I’m not pleased when he leaves the bed and gently tugs my arm so I’ll move too, but I try to stop being selfish, try to remember that my hair is short, this isn’t my Games, I’m the mentor this time, not the tribute, and I need to be there for Omega.

Gunny and Marks are already eating when we leave our room. Gunny seems largely unaffected, but not outwardly cheerful or excited, like most Capitol people. I’m so glad of that. Marks and Beetee trade silent nods as we sit. I wish we would all speak, that we could all talk about how hard this is, how Beetee is trying to protect me but forgetting about himself, how Marks might be feeling good about having another co-mentor and might feel guilty about that, how I’m constantly confused about whether I’m going back into the arena or not. I just want everything out in the open, not stuffed inside our hearts where it might rot. A whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it, and all three sets of eyes stare at me.

“You okay, Wire?” Beetee asks softly, close to my ear. I nod, hoping it’s believable. The strain of taking care of me is showing around his eyes, and I remember how bad it always was for him, when he returned from mentoring, so that _plus_ caring for me…I don’t want him hurt or exhausted.

“I’m fine. Better than I thought I’d be.” I play with my food, some kind of cold granola, but I don’t recognize half of the items poured on top. Fruits. Gunny pushes a cup of coffee towards me.

“Here.” Her brow is furrowed too. I still don’t know what to make of her. She seems to care about us, the mentors, her team, and she was kind towards me as a tribute and to Omega and Filip. I want to be angry with her, our Capitol representative, but she can’t help where she was born any more than I can. At least she’s not overly made up, just all over yellow and _bright_. Some of the escorts I’ve seen on television terrify me. “Don’t spill, there’s not enough time to change,” she warns. I’m careful, ignoring both the phantom blood and the bright flashes behind my eyes brought on by stress. I would give anything to be at home in the workshop, hands dirty and machine parts everywhere. Instead, I am careful not to spill on my pretty tunic dress.

_Beetee_

My head throbs and I alternate pressing at my temples and sneaking peeks at Wiress. I wonder if I should have woken her to properly say goodbye to Omega, but it’s probably for the best. She seemed calm last night, let Omega remember Wiress that way, feel secure that she has capable mentors looking out for her. A terrified seventeen year old who can’t put together a sentence correctly wouldn’t inspire too much confidence. We need Omega to feel confident and to trust us. We’re certainly going to do whatever we can. As we get up from the table, turning to last minute preparations, Gunny pulls me aside, as worried as I’d ever seen her.

“Will Wiress be alright?” She chews on her lower lip.

“I don’t know.” She sighs.

“She did very well for herself in that arena. Better than most, perhaps, and there will be reparations…” She wrung her hands, a slightly comical gesture, but one I wanted to echo, not knowing what to do with my hands either. “Some of the Districts, 1 and 2 maybe, 4 possibly… they will look for our tributes. They will need to reassert their dominance, the little animals.” She looks so full of disdain that I’m shocked, and she sees that, so clearly written on my face. “They will all want a high number of kills, try to dislodge Wiress’ record, and they will certainly want to kill ours, and they will very likely make it a spectacle, the way they always do. I am not a fan of the rule breaking they do, and I don’t like their habit of cruelty. None of it is sporting. None of it is in the _spirit_ of the Games.” She sniffs, as though even discussing this smells bad. I want to ask her what _she_ considers the spirit of the Games to be, I want to get a real read on her and her motives, but we are completely out of time and we’re all herded towards to elevators and towards to opening of the 58 th Annual Hunger Games.

_Wiress_

I’m not really emotionally prepared for the arena, but I could probably have a million days and still not be ready to see this again. The mentoring room has tiered seats with work stations and chairs, all aimed at the many screens up against the wall. I recognize a lot of the other mentors from the victory tour, I’ve always been pretty good with faces. I think Doma shoots me a dirty look as I pass by her, but then again, that might just be her face. We sit by District 10 and District 12, both pretty safe teams that shouldn’t be too intense. Beetee sets up our tablets and confers with Marks, while I scout out the people. District 12 only has one representative, they had another previous winner, but it was really early, the 5th Games, back before the careers could really build up their scheme. This guy is named Haymitch. He’s about Beetee’s age, and I pity him for a moment because he won the 50th games, where there were twice as many tributes. Maybe that’s not as bad as the 25th Games, though, the one where people voted. The thought of that gives me chills.

The District 10 mentors are both middle aged women, although one is about a decade or so older. The younger is Jolene, the elder, Carmen. They are both pretty in a faded way, District 10 didn’t seem to care much for looks when I was there, and they aren’t wearing makeup of any kind. Carmen has deeply tanned skin and brown eyes and hair, Jolene is strawberry blonde and covered in freckles. They immediately take to mothering me, and I am glad I get to sit next to them. I feel as ready as I can be, I brace myself to stay strong. My entire row is full of people who don’t hate me. Don’t want to kill me. Haymitch calls me sweetheart. Carmen and Jolene are already gossiping with me. Marks reminds me of my gentle father. Beetee loves me with all of his heart. I think I can handle the horrors that will come. I’m going to try, because this is going to be my life now.

_Beetee_

I’m trying hard not to be overprotective of Wiress. She’s an adult. Capable of making her own friendships and decisions. I need to stay out of it. I’m already annoyed that Marks took a seat next to Haymitch, I don’t particularly like him or his self destructive behavior, and he definitely won’t be a good influence on Wiress. At least Marks is the one sitting right next to him. I take my place. I’m proud of Wiress’ determination, and she’s done a good job with Omega thus far. I brush my hand quickly over hers as the viewing screens turn on.

Omega’s health stats pop up on our tablets, and the main screen gives us our first view of the arena. A field, soft pastures in the distance, rolling hills to one side, a creek to another. It’s very pretty, but that usually means dangerous. The screens scroll through different camera angles, giving us a larger view of the whole space. I take quick notes. There isn’t much cover other than one small grove of trees, and I bet it will get crowded rather quickly. I hope Omega doesn’t head there. The hills are dotted with berry bushes, but I don’t get a good enough look to see if they are edible or poison. There are fish in the creek and some kind of small animal around the trees. I’m on my tablet trying to find out what kind of animal, regular or mutt, predator or prey, when I hear the chimes that mean we are about to start. We don’t listen to the commentary in the mentor room, but we do have it, captioned, on one of the smaller workstation screens. It’s always good to know what the public thinks of your tribute. They say all of the regular things as the tributes are loaded into their chutes. Odds based on training scores, which of the careers is the current favorite, which celebrities were in attendance at which viewing parties. Wiress grips my arm as the cameras focus on the cornucopia and the tribute tubes open. Our work station shows a close up of Omega, jaw set and eyes squinted against the sun as the countdown begins.

The gong sounds. Omega runs for the cornucopia, dodging and weaving, like we discussed. She was never going to be fast enough to get there first, but if she manages to avoid being injured, she can surely grab some outlying bag or weapon and get out of there. Fillip runs away from the bloodbath immediately, a smart decision for him. He still runs into someone with a weapon and is gashed in the leg pretty badly. It goes by too quickly to see who got him, or even with what. Something with a blade. Next to me, Wiress is shaking but she’s quiet and her eyes are alert, she’s doing so well.

“Oh, baby, don’t be upset!” Carmen puts her arm around Wiress. “This is perfectly natural for your first time mentoring. You don’t have nerves of steel.” Jolene stands behind Wiress, stroking her hair.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, darlin’.” Wiress soaks up the attention, and I know she’s in good hands while I check on Omega. She has something in her arms from the cornucopia. District 1 is chasing her, running across the field. They split, trying to capture her between them. Omega darts to the left, her quick lunge knocking over the girl. She keeps going, off toward the hills. The District 1 boy would follow her, but he sees the bright red blooming on his ally’s uniform. Omega was holding a knife when she rammed into the other tribute. The cannon fires for the female 1. Wow. Our girl took out a career. There’s some definite hope.

I turn to Wiress and she nods that she’s seen. Jolene is still holding her hand, stroking with her thumb, even as she checks out her tablet. They have both tributes alive and healthy. On my other side, Marks is worried about Fillip’s wound, and Haymitch has lost both his tributes. District 12 always has it rough. They’re just poor, weak, underfed. There’s not much chance against kids who have illegally trained most of their lives. I send Wiress to take a nap on one of the back sofas if she can, so we can have a mentor up at all times through the night. I also think her nerves could use the rest.

“Yes, boss.” She smiles at me before leaving, a poor substitute for the kiss I would have gotten if we were alone.

“What a sweetheart!” Carmen croons at me. “Didn’t know what to think of her in that arena last year, but out here, I just love her to bits.”

“Yeah, I like her too,” I say. Carmen laughs.

“Oh yes, darlin’, I saw that victory tour. You sure seem to like her.”  I keep my eyes on the screen; pretend I can’t hear their laughter. Friendly teasing. I haven’t gotten much of it in this room. It’s very welcome. I could always use more friends. I could always use more friendly faces at a time like this. No matter what the outcome of the Games is, there will be 23 dead children, and I will treasure every smile and every laugh we can manage.


	17. Chapter 17

_Beetee_

Without the clever editing the Capitol does, a lot of the Hunger Games is, quite frankly, _boring._ After the rush of the bloodbath, most tributes pull away from any action. They form their alliance groups, look for food water and shelter, take a look at whatever they might have grabbed from the cornucopia. At the moment, Omega has the contents of her bag spread around her as she contemplates each one. It’s not a very smart move, if she had to run right now, she’d have to leave everything, but it does give me a good look at her supplies so I have a better idea of what she might need in the upcoming days. She’s got some nuts and dried berries in a pouch, an empty canteen, and a small blade that doesn’t look like it could be used to attack, but more to work with. Cutting cord or whittling fishhooks, perhaps. She turns the blade over and over in her hands, comparing it to the knife she grabbed at the cornucopia, the one she stabbed the career with. Ultimately, Omega shrugs and repacks the bag. She then follows the slope of the hills downward. I hope she’s looking for water. It’s like this for an hour or so, just boring walking, avoiding other tributes. At the moment, boring is good for Omega. Later on, boring would trigger game maker action.

When I’m ready for a break, I get up for coffee. There are all sorts of drinks and snacks set up against the back wall, alongside lots of couches and pillows for chatting or naps. Wiress is there, she doesn’t seem to have been able to sleep, she’s chatting with Haymitch instead.

“…but what they don’t understand is that I _never_ loved Maysilee. So it didn’t even make sense.” Wiress pats his hand. “From the seam, we keep separate. Not much call to mix, you know? And that’s only if I didn’t have my girl, which I did.” I have no idea how Wire got him to tell his life story, but I get the feeling that she’d kill me if I interrupted.

_Wiress_

Haymitch has had a really sad life. I would rather be estranged from Nik than know I was responsible for his death. They killed Haymitch’s girlfriend, too. I think of Beetee and my heart clenches. I run the palms of my hands over my knees, letting the texture of my leggings keep me focused.

“Look at me, getting all melancholy. I’d better cut that out before you have to deal with my tears, sweetheart. Maybe we can discuss why you never called or wrote me, huh?” Haymitch winks at me, he’s very charming and he makes me smile.

“Didn’t think you actually wanted me to. Not after I turned you down.” Haymitch’s suggestion of sex during my victory tour had been half hearted at best. I got the feeling it was done to stay in this character he created for himself. The career district victors all made similar comments and offers, but were more sincere, using sex as currency or a way to dominate or a way to connect. Haymitch wanted to appear carefree and strong, unaffected by it all. He might have asked me to go home with him, but he would have been confused and scared if I had said yes. It makes sense now, he’s got these walls up from losing his girl, but at the time, I had such eyes for Beetee that I didn’t even consider the logic behind why he was asking me.

Haymitch leans back in his chair with cultivated ease. I’ve never seen someone put so much work into looking so carefree. “Sure, I want to converse with you. Pretty thing like you probably has all sorts of interesting things to say.” I look away. I can’t tell if he’s mocking me, my difficulty with speech. I don’t have much to say to most people. Haymitch chucks my chin. “Don’t be sad, what did I say?”

“I know I’m not much of a talker.” I pick at my tunic dress, focus on a bit of fluff so I don’t look too hurt. “I really…” The piece of fluff is connected to the yarn of the tunic. If I pick at it too much, the whole thing could unravel, just unwind in one long line, until I am topless in front of all these people. And I’d have to pretend that I wasn’t embarrassed, pretend that I intended it to happen, and maybe just stay all afternoon without changing in order to prove it. Haymitch is staring at me. I think I started to say something, but now I don’t remember what.

“I see what you mean, sweetheart.” He pats my leg. “Good thing I appreciate some quiet, too.” I am suddenly overwhelmed by the kindness that’s been shown to me so far. I hate being here because it is the _Games_ and all of the death and all of the blood, but on the other hand, these are the only people who have done this too. The people who have similar screams locked inside their heads. I’m grateful for this support group, no matter how odd and fucked up it is.

“Thanks,” I say softly. He just smiles and leans back, so we zone out together in a comfortable silence.

After I feel somewhat rested and have a warm mug of coffee in my hands, I rejoin Beetee at the work station. I get a pretty good overview of how everything works, it’s complex enough that my brain likes it, stays focused and interested, tries to take all the information apart and reassemble it better, the same way it does when I investigate some new machine. It could almost be _fun_ if only it were for some other purpose. A less deadly one. Omega has been successfully avoiding other tributes, laying low and keeping out of the line of fire. Our maps of the arena are slightly incomplete, we only see areas as tributes explore and reveal more, but it’s enough information for my brain to work with. While I try to focus on Omega and her actions, the back of my mind is whirring, thinking about types of traps I would make if I were in the arena, where I would put them. I whimper softly, but Beetee hears. He always hears.

He slips his hand over mine on the console. “It’s okay. You’re safe,” he says softly.

I shake my head, my hair whispers across my face when I move. “She’s not.”

“I know.” Beetee sighs, turning our hands so mine is nestled in his larger one. “Sparks, I know.” I’ve made him sad again. I hate that. I rest my head gently on his shoulder as we watch the tributes all make camps for the night. One of the girls moves away from her alliance towards the stream, my guess is to wash or relieve herself, and she heads exactly to one of the spots I was considering earlier.

“Don’t-“ is all that leaves my mouth before she shrieks and is gone. The cannon fires.

“What in the world?” Jolene leans on the console, trying to get a better look. Carmen, beside her, covers her mouth with her hand. “What happened?”

“It’s always rough when it’s sudden.” Carmen takes a deep breath, recomposes herself. They’re both looking at me, assuming I got a good look because I was the one who spoke but I’m a bit shocked and unsure myself of what happened. The bank of the stream widened at one point, and I thought it would be a good place for a trap, an area that would attract tributes because no one could lie in wait for them, or pick them off from the treeline. They wouldn’t see any danger in the sand or in the water. That was apparently exactly what the gamemakers thought as well, since the sand swirled as soon as the girl stepped on it, sucking her in. A kind of a mechanical quicksand.

I’d seen blood on her face.

“Wiress?” Beetee’s voice brings me back, makes me focus. I want to put on a calm face, but it doesn’t seem to convince him.

“As it turns out, I think a lot like the gamemakers.” The sentence rasps from my throat. If I had been born in the Capitol, I probably would have made a wonderful gamemaker. Brainwashed into believing the Districts were lesser, I might not see anything wrong with this horrific punishment. I sit and rest my elbows on my knees, gulping in air. To my surprise, the arms that go around my shoulders to hold me delicately are _not_ Beetee’s, but Marks’. He’s whispering calming nonsense into my hair. My breath calms down and my heart isn’t racing anymore by the time he lets go. He steps back immediately, a bit embarrassed, I think. He still reminds me so much of my father. Not in looks, but in seriousness and quiet affection.

“If you’re on the same wavelength,” Beetee turns to me, “that could be very good. It might be an advantage. It doesn’t mean you’re broken.”

“I know, I know.” I feel stupid and selfish and embarrassed. I didn’t cause a scene, no one beyond our little group even noticed me, but I feel like the center of attention and I hate it. Beetee’s trying to take care of everything _and_ take care of me and it’s taking its toll on him, and we all should be focused on our Tributes right now, not me who is alive and safe and not a priority right now. I just don’t have the words to express any of this. I turn back to the screens and watch a tribute dig a makeshift resting place under a bush. Most of the cameras are switching over to night-vision.

The next few hours pass as if in a dream. The arena gets cold at night, unnaturally cold, perhaps trying to goad tributes into making fires. Beetee and I discuss it and send a lightweight sleeping bag. Nothing that would be too difficult to carry during the day. Omega receives it with thanks to the sky, climbs in happily. There’s a rainstorm during the night. It’s so heavy that the cameras can’t see very far, but we can tell that there’s flash flooding. We discover that the valley Omega chose to camp in was once an old stream bed. We can see that a lightweight sleeping bag is very difficult to get out of when one is woken up abruptly by cascades of water pulling you down, pulling you under. We discover that the death of our tribute sends my body into panic-shut-off mode


	18. Chapter 18

_Beetee_

Wiress is completely blank, empty. One moment she was hyperventilating, and the next, she's gone still and her eyes are dull. She's locked herself in her own head. Fillip is surprisingly still in the Games, so I insist that Marks stay in the control room. Avoxes bustle around me, trying to help, but Wiress is light enough, or maybe I'm strong enough, for me to carry her in my arms. I smile my thanks at the avox who runs ahead and opens the doors for me.

I pull her close to me on our bed, cuddle her and whisper into her ear. "I love you, livewire. We're safe. I have you." I say everything I can think of that may help, and eventually I just hold her and rock our bodies gently, like you would rock a baby. At some point, she falls asleep, and her natural steady breathing and little movements keep my terror at bay. I fall asleep too, clinging to her body, keeping her warm. I don't dream at all, as if my mind is still in shock, unable to process the fact that Omega is dead, that sweet scared girl is gone forever.

I wake up in the morning when something tries to pull her out of my arms, and my heart is racing, I'm ready to fight, but it's actually just her trying to get up. "Sorry, Wire." She touches my face before she goes into the bathroom. She comes out a bit later looking much better than the night before. Her face is washed, hair brushed, and she doesn't even look like she's been crying.

"I'll be okay now," she says in a small voice. "It's hard to feel so much."

I nod. "I know." She sits on the bed with me.

"You took care of me, didn't you." I don't answer. She knows. "Thank you." She kisses my cheek. It's so sweet, I close my eyes. "Do we have to go back right away?"

"No. Not until you're ready. There are still helpful things you could learn, but we can wait a bit."

"Good." She starts to pull off her clothing, "Come on, you too."

I don't hesitate to do as she orders, but I still want an explanation. "I didn't know we had time," she tells me. "But since we do, I need you _immediately._ For comfort. To feel alive. Because I like your cock. Who cares what the reason is." I really don't know what to do with her sometimes. I hope she never stops shocking me. I can't imagine ever being used to her, not when she screams my name the way she does. We're rough and desperate to feel something, _anything_.

When she's calmer, the endorphins of our sex running through her veins, she opens up slightly. "It was on purpose." I nod, even though I don't know exactly what she means. "It's a man-made space, someone had to make it rain. They made the choice, and they knew exactly who was where, and they knew who it would kill. Someone pressed that button."

"Do you think they were specifically targeting Omega? Or just happy to make a kill?"

Wiress sighs, half shrugging. "She killed the District 1 girl. It might have been a bit of dumb luck, but that shows she had a pretty good chance. If they want a different winner, it might have been better to take her out early." She fidgets, twisting her hands into awkward shapes. Now I can see the big fear she holds, the one she refuses to say out loud. I think through my words carefully, not wanting to hurt her further.

"Right now, you think that she never had a chance, because of you? Not wanting two in a row?" I keep my voice soft, keep my hands on her, lightly touching. She nods, eyes closed. "I don't know, sweetheart, I don't know how they think. I know that you did everything to help her and Filip and nothing to harm them. You can't blame yourself for decisions the gamemakers make." She nods almost imperceptibly, and I have to take her calm, even breathing as a good sign.

"We're going to have to do this for the rest of our lives." Her voice cracks. "Sparks…every year. Every single fucking year."

"I want to comfort you, I really do, but you're right. And it doesn't get better. Easier, maybe, but not better." I sigh. "And I haven't been at this for very long either, have I." I already feel burnt out. I don't know how Marks and Elise handle it.

"Those are the choices, though." Wiress throws off the sheets angrily, begins to go through her clothes. "Stay detached, completely and _inhumanly_ detached, or be devastated by the inevitable?"

"It wasn't inevitable with you. Or me," I protest. She turns her head slightly to shoot me a withering look.

_Wiress_

My brain has alarm bells going off in it. It makes sense that I'm upset, it feels _right_ that I'm upset, but I need to stop shouting at Beetee. He's not the enemy here. He hasn't done a single thing wrong, and in fact, he warned me, before I ever even entered the arena, that a victor's life was hell. I drop the dress I was holding and press my hands to my head, trying to drown out the bells, trying to stop my head from shaking and shattering and making me hurt. All of the sounds and feelings and pin boil up inside me and I just shout and scream. A few long wordless bursts of noise, expelling breath until my lungs burn. I scream and scream and then lean onto the dresser and gasp. It's enough to calm me, enough that I can pick the dress back up and slip it on, enough that I can turn back to Beetee with a composed face.

"That helped." He gives me a half-smile, appearing too tired to try for a genuine one. "I…" I don't know what to say. He takes my hand and kisses the palm, curling my fingers into a fist around the kiss.

"We'll survive together, Wire. I can't promise more than that." He gets up to change his clothes, too. I watch him, he moves slowly and deliberately, low energy. Back before I was reaped, I used to comfort him when he came home from this. I wish…I wish I could keep all of my pain locked up somewhere and just comfort him until he was strong enough to do the same for me. We could take turns. Instead, we are two broken people and we have difficulties helping each other.

I can feel the distance between us, the slight rift from all the pain and then me yelling, and I hate it. I want my Beetee back. I stand near him, fidgeting, trying to give him enough space but wanting so badly to touch him. "What?" He turns, slightly frustrated.

"I admire you. Your strength." He looks confused. I reach for his face slowly, so I don't frighten him. We're all on our last nerve. He leans towards my hand as I stroke his cheek. "I know I'm not showing it well. I'm sorry." He pulls me by my waist, pulls me into his body for an embrace. He buries his face in my hair and I can feel a few of his silent tears hit my skin.

"Wire…" He says my name softly, just a reminder that I'm here and alive. He did this much more often right after I left the arena. His hands trail over my back, giving me goose bumps. It makes me very aware of my own skin, I can feel it tingling and humming. I want to walk backwards until we hit the bed, I want to pull him down with me and make love with him again, connect with him desperately. I felt close to him when we were having sex. I knew where we stood as a couple. Now, I feel like we are on a ledge and I'm terrified I might say the wrong thing, I might push us. Sex is much simpler than emotions. Beetee turns his head and kisses me, sweetly. His lips are salty from tears, but I don't know if they are his or mine.

Gunny is sitting at the table, reading a magazine and sipping a dark liquid. "Coffee?" I ask hopefully.

"Chocolate." She nods towards the sideboard, where I can help myself. She seems calm and composed, I keep sneaking glances towards her as I hand Beetee a mug and go back for my own.

"Omega's dead." Beetee breaks the silence.

"Yes, I am aware." She raises her drawn on eyebrows slightly. "And if I were not, the screaming might have alerted me." I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks. _Of course_ she could hear me. She smiles kindly at me before sipping again at the chocolate. "There's some time to waste, but we need to stay until the end of the Games." She turns to me, since I'm the newcomer here, "usually you're allowed to leave if you wish, after your tributes are down. But since you are still our little celebrity for the moment, we need you here for comments and a party when a winner is announced." I nod. Beetee had already briefed me on that point.

Beetee nods as well, and goes to sit in one of the soft chairs. I think he needs alone time, so I don't follow. I don't want to smother him. "How _are_ you holding up, sweetie?" Gunny seems genuinely concerned. Enough so that I force a small smile.

"I'll be okay eventually." She sighs and reaches across the table for my hand. Her skin is cool in comparison to mine, hot from my cup.

"You're angry. That's understandable." Her eyes flick up to the ceiling for a split second. Bugs. These Capitol suites are all bugged. I need to be careful with my speech. She's noticed that I noticed, and widens her eyes suggestively. "Just remember _why_ she died, District 3. Revolution."

I think my heart must have stopped. I'm not breathing and I'm sure that I must be hearing wrong. Just what is Gunny hinting at? She could be reminding me that we have the Hunger Games because the Districts revolted, or she could be sending me a message. Remember the Capitol killed her. Think about revolution. Is she not a part of the Capitol machine like we thought? My mind goes back to the diagrams and partial projects in our workroom at home, the ones for the Districts that I haven't shown anyone, the ones that would get us in deep trouble if they were found. Killed, perhaps. Have any hit of those gotten out?

My muddled thoughts all run through my brain is less than a second, it's only a normal response time before I speak again. "Yes, I remember why we have the Games, Gunny." I sound sad and mildly exasperated, as though I didn't hear the double meanings at all. Gunny stands, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt and tossing me the magazine she was reading.

"You do seem stressed, sweetie, and we need you looking fresh and lively for the parties. Read up on fashion, relax, after dinner we can go have a drink on the roof. There's a sweet little lounge up there."

"I remember." She nods and leaves the room. Now I have even more to think about, more to worry about. I never intended to be playing at spies. I stare at the magazine in front of me, the blood-that-isn't-there pooling on the dead-eyed faces of the models. I flip the page, looking for some soothing image, my fingers pause over a slip of paper shoved into the binding, a hastily scrawled note that simply reads "Capitol friends can be quite helpful. 8 PM". I have no idea if the bugs in here are just audio or is they can see us as well. I have to resist the urge to climb on a chair and take a look, that would be too suspicious. If they _can_ see us, it must be imperfect, at least. Beetee coughs, and the sound startles me into flipping the magazine shut. I need to focus on composing myself. I'll meet Gunny tonight and see what she wants, I'll do it without worrying Beetee or bringing him into something potentially dangerous and treasonous. For the moment, I'm going to protect him.

_Beetee_

We re-enter the control room later in the day, I'm hoping that viewing strategy and forging bonds with other mentors will help Wiress in the long run. The awkward, inappropriate socialization can sometimes be the only thing keeping you sane, so it's pretty important. Fillip died in the time we were gone. Marks is dejected, but pretty used to this by now. Getting used to this child murder is a mixed blessing. At least you feel less pain. As for me, Omega's face is burnt into my memory and I force myself to not think about it. Later, I can grieve later. I have all year to grieve. I have the rest of my life.

Wiress speaks to people while I do busy work, sending messages of thanks to sponsors and so on. I don't want to be a jealous person, but I do notice that District 2's Kurt is paying a lot of attention to her. He danced with her once or twice during the victory tour, but otherwise I didn't really notice him. He's handsome in the bland way all District 2 tributes are, a big guy, light brown hair. It's ridiculous, I was _inside_ her just a few hours ago, and now I'm worrying about another guy? I should be ignoring it, but still, every time I hear her laughter, I wonder what he's saying to her. It's entirely possible that my brain is only interested because it is scrambling to focus on anything other than death at the moment. I try not to look too interested when she walks back over to me a few minutes later.

"Can I help, love?" She smiles at me, looking perfectly content to sit here, stay next to me.

"I've got it." I touch her leg gently. "You were talking to Kurt over there for a while."

"Yes." She places her hand on mine, keeping it on her leg.

"I think he is interested in you."

She smiles at our hands fondly. "He most certainly is."

"He is?" I think my voice cracked. I guess I thought I was wrong about him flirting. Hoped, maybe.

"He did proposition me for sex." She raises her eyes to my face and I see the laughter there. She's _enjoying_ my confusion, that minx.

"What did you say?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "I said yes, in fact, I'm up there right now, banging him."

"Funny." I know how attractive she is, I'm not surprised he was interested. All of the victors do tend to sleep around with each other, but of course I want to know what she said.

"I told him I had someone already." She leans in. "You're enough for me." She kisses me quickly. I hold on to her when she tries to pull away. I was the one who asked her to mostly keep our relationship cool in the control room. I was the one putting distance there. I don't want it anymore.

"I love you, Wiress." I murmur. Then I lean in for a nice, long kiss.

Carmen and Jolene are watching us, they each give me a thumbs up. I have to laugh a little bit. I'm pretty sure they're a couple so they should understand why I didn't want to make a big deal of it while we try to focus on work. "How's your tribute, is he…" Wiress tries to ask them.

"…healthy," I fill in. I didn't realize one of theirs died; apparently Wiress is more up to date than I am.

"Good and moving," says Jolene. "We have high hopes for him, he's a smart kid."

"Just high spirited, friendly, good sense of humor. Someone who shouldn't have to die, ya know?" Carmen adds.

"None of them should die," Wiress whispers, her face pale.

"Well, obviously." Carmen pats her hand. "In a perfect world. But Jed, we might be able to bring back home. He's," She tilts her head while searching for the right word, "well-adjusted. He could survive being a survivor." She looks up at the screens. A boy with light brown hair is filling his canteen from the creek. He has a knife at the ready, looking out for an ambush. At this point in the game, it's pretty impressive to not have any injuries. 24 hours in the arena can cause quite a bit of damage. I miss what Jed did, but suddenly he's pulling a fish out of the creek. Jolene claps her hands.

"Why do tributes always skip that station? There's almost always some kind of water food." She pokes Carmen's shoulder. "I told you."

"Yes, you did." Carmen takes the gloating gracefully. Wiress gets up and walks away in order to avoid watching this boy eat a raw fish. Fire is too dangerous in the arena.


	19. Chapter 19

_Wiress_

I'm not particularly hungry, but staring at the food table is something to do. Doma is there, and I don't particularly want to speak to her. She's been spreading her nickname for us, 'Nuts and Volts' and I don't know why it bothers me but it does. I got teased like this at the engineering academy. I guess this hurts more because these people have been through all of this too. They've all been scarred. And I'm the crazy one. Queen of the crazies. I flake apart a croissant as I eat it, taking out my frustration on its lovely dough. Doma is currently ignoring me in favor of antagonizing the mentors from District 1. Swatch and … Amber, I remember. Doma is telling some story about her name. I tune it out, go inside my mind to be alone, but I wake up when she moves backwards a bit and jostles me.

"Oh, you're hiding back there. Sorry, didn't see you." She throws her hair over her shoulder and turns her back to me again. "So yeah, it pretty much means home. Domesticated." She giggles, a sharp sound that makes my ears angry. "Amber, your name is a precious stone, right?"

"It's a resin." It slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself. Doma turns to me with an eyebrow raised, not pleased that I've butted in.

"Yes," Amber says. "Not a stone." I don't think she likes Doma much and maybe she doesn't like me much either but at this moment she's on my side. "It used to be way more common but now the trees don't make it much anymore, or like, it's ruined before it becomes amber." I'm bored with this display of power, and I don't want any enemies, so I leave with a plate full of strawberries before I say anything else.

Amber follows me, her eyes calculating. "Wait up." I stop, frozen in place. My heart beats rapidly, if she's going to bully me I might actually cry. I'll cry because my first instinct would be violence, of course my instincts run to violence now, and I can't do that so I will have to cry from the struggle.

"I'm sorry about your girl." She reaches my side, "I kind of thought she'd win, once she took out my tribute."

"I'm sorry." I hadn't remembered that Amber might have a reason for being angry with me, with Omega.

She just shrugs. "Jewelia knew what she was getting into when she volunteered. And you should get to know this about us," her hand motion seems to indicate all of the careers, "if our Tributes die, we at least want them to be killed by the future victor."

"I'm sorry," I say again, uselessly. She gives me a tiny smile. I think I must be very frustrating to talk to.

"Well." She seems to be reconsidering her words. "We just wanted to get your measure. You were awfully impressive in that arena, but that doesn't mean you can mentor another winner."

"No, it doesn't," I agree.

We stand in awkward silence for another moment.

She shifts her weight from one foot to another. "Well, if you have a promising tribute some year, it might be worth discussing alliances." I just stare at her. Auster, my district partner, was one of the rare non-careers in their alliance. It hadn't worked out well for him. I killed him just as easily as anyone else. I can still hear his confused yell as the log of blades crashed into him. I left the clearing immediately, but I saw the recap. His skull had been opened. I did that. Me. I can't speak, too choked up by my thoughts. "Right. At least I can tell them I _tried_ to talk to you. If you want to discuss this, maybe try Kurt. He likes you."

Oh. "Kurt just wants…" I attempt to tell her. Amber nods knowingly.

"Of course he does. We all do. And with everyone." I probably look shocked and prudish because she laughs a little. "It's what we're good for, fighting and fucking, and it's all we have. So don't go getting a swelled head over it. It's your kills that make you attractive, not you." She touches my hair, pulling a curl though her fingers. "You're cute, but nothing special." She waits a little bit longer, but I'm still unable to speak. I have nothing to say. She walks back towards her group, shaking her head the whole way.

Amber's resonate in my head. 'Cute but nothing special.' That's perfect. That's exactly how I want to appear. That was the purpose of Beetee and I showing off during my victory tour. I don't want the Capitol to think of me at all, but when they do, I want to be forgettable. I want my own life, with Nik and inventions and most of all, Beetee. Safe.

I roam the back of the room, keeping away from the mentors still working at their stations. A lot of people seem exhausted, although districts _can_ bring up to four previous victors, there are usually only two mentors per district, and that's not really enough for what amounts to an around the clock job.

Haymitch is asleep on one of the sofas, snoring. I think he must be drunk, which makes me sad. I take one of the blankets thrown everywhere and drape it over him. There's a splotch of blood-that-isn't-there on his forehead and I wipe it gently. I wish I could comfort him. I feel very maternal I guess and I don't think I'll ever get to be a mother because that's just not a good idea for a victor.

I twist my fingers into different patterns, try to sort my thoughts properly. It had just been a passing thought, but the idea of a child with Beetee clings to my heart, drags it into my stomach. Even in a perfect world I wouldn't want a child for lots more years but suddenly knowing that I shouldn't ever have any children makes me feel slightly desperate and trapped. There's a low rumble in my throat that makes a couple nearby mentors look at my funny. I quash it, shove it back down my throat with some strawberries from my nearly forgotten plate. They're my favorite Capitol treat and I asked a lot of questions in District 11 about growing them and I wondered if I could grow some but it would probably take a hothouse and be complicated so it isn't worth it when now I can easily afford shipments from the Capitol. I look up to find that I have been standing here near Haymitch for a really really long time without realizing it. Sometimes time just slips through my fingers like the sand of District 4. Beetee is talking to Carmen and Jolene but he must feel my eyes on him because he looks up at me, and there's such a spark when our eyes connect, if I hadn't known he was _the one_ before, I would now. I go to him, he's all I see. He welcomes me with a smile, holding out his arm to me.

Whatever their conversation is, I seem to fit in. "I think this will be easier for me now that my partner will join me," Beetee smiles.

Carmen nods, "Mentoring is easier when you can share the pain."

"Or joy," Jolene breaks in, pointing to the screen showing Jed, still alive and healthy. I press myself into Beetee's arms, as though maybe I could hide in them, I could shut my eyes and not have to be in this room anymore, surrounded by death. He holds me, and I can't actually hide but he makes me feel better anyway.

"I love you," I whisper. He smiles at me.

"You okay?" he asks me under his breath. I just nod, unwilling or unready to discuss what happened with Amber.

Beetee spends more time teaching me the whole system for sending mentor gifts, for scrolling through the cameras, for communicating with sponsors we already have set up. The mechanics of mentoring are really very easy. It's the strategy and the need to keep a cool head and empty heart, those are what will be difficult. We keep an eye on Jed, mostly so I can learn, but I have a difficult time focusing. Jed doesn't have any of my blood-that-isn't-there on him, and all of the other tributes do. I begin to take notes, writing what I specifically notice about each tribute, and then when they are hurt or killed. There's a very clear pattern forming, and it terrifies me. Nik has always said I was intuitive, and I tend to know odd things that haven't happened yet, but this is different. This is actually really scary.

I think differently from everyone else, it seems. My thoughts flash through my head as images gone in milliseconds, not as words. I think that's why I sometimes see things that others don't, because of how my brain processes things. I think that's the key to my intuition.

There was the girl with flaming red hair whose curls turned to blood as she stepped into the meadow. If I think about it calmly, I recognize how her hair made her an easy target and I had certainly seen a rustle in the trees waiting for someone to break cover.

There were the two boys at the stream, unable to see one another but I had unconsciously picked up on the blonde one's limp. He wasn't in perfect condition and he wasn't able to keep quiet and my mind told me so by covering him in fake blood. When he took a misstep and splashed into the water, it was a matter of seconds before the other boy was on him with a knife. And that boy, well, he was small and desperate, it wasn't difficult to see that he would be harmed in the encounter.

I sit back in my chair, staring at the screens and at my notes in turn. I've always thought oddly and I've always been scattered. But perhaps the explosion in the arena had harmed me more than I knew. Maybe there had been some extra damage, something keeping my brain from communicating with itself properly. Something that provided hallucinations to get across the missing information. My head hurts from this stress, from my fear and focus. It's the sort of time that seems to make my hallucinations worse, and sure enough, my hands are covered in blood all the way up my arms. I look like I've been performing surgery and I want to hold my hands up away from touching anything and laughter wants to bubble up my throat but mostly I want to hold myself together and not have a breakdown, or at least _another_ breakdown in front of all the other mentors. I control my breathing, force my lungs to move slowly and breathe deeply. I press my hands flat on the table in front of me, reminding myself that the smears of blood I'm leaving aren't real. I calm myself until I can look up and meet Beetee's eyes. He looks concerned, he clearly saw some of what was going on inside my head, but didn't interfere. He knows I need to take care of myself sometimes. I force my breathing to stay calm. I can take care of myself. I can. I really can.

I raise my eyes again to examine Beetee again. I try to look at him with fresh eyes, as if I'd never seen him before, let this intuition do the work. He's pale but healthy looking. Hair a bit too long, his stylist actually called it short and refused to even trim it, but mostly Bee has trouble keeping it out of his eyes. He fusses with it as I watch, which brings my attention to his hands. Just looking at his hands gets me turned on, and I have to really focus so I don't get sidetracked. It's just that his fingers are long and slender and skilled and feel so _so_ good in me. We had sex this morning. I still feel sore, actually. I should _not_ be this easily turned on and distracted. Back to my examination of him, my overwhelming impression is that he's been strong, protecting me, and now I want to protect him.

The avoxes that have been in charge of food all day begin to move around plates and bring in fresh platters, heavier fare. My stomach flips a little, realizing this is dinner and I need to go meet Gunny soon. Not knowing what she wants or whose side she's on is making me nervous and I'm not sure I can eat something with the way my insides are twisting, so I grab one of those wonderful gooey cheese sandwiches and wrap it in a napkin to take with me.

"Bee," I catch his attention. He's been in the middle of an animated discussion with a few other mentors, so it's easy for me to slip away. I let him know quickly where I'm going, then dart off before he can ask me any questions. I'm wracked with nerves for the entire ride up in the elevator. I don't know what will happen so I can't plan and that's making anxiety eat me up inside. The only goal I have in this conversation is to keep Beetee out of it, keep him safe. I step out of the elevator with my jaw set, ready to fight. It's largely to no effect since it's barely quarter to eight and there's no one here to see me.

_Beetee_

"Where's she off to?" Heron asks as Wiress leaves the room.

"Not sure." He raises his eyebrows but I remain impassive. Wiress and I might have been inseparable thus far, but I don't want them to think of her as weak in any way, not dependent.

Blight shrugs. "She's an odd one." I don't say anything. I've threatened Blight enough in the past year, either this is fond teasing or I need to skip a step and go right to rewiring his alarm clock to give him electric shocks.

"I like her." Heron seems so matter-of-fact about it, so free of there being conditions or ties attached or anything else. I kind of want to hug him. Instead I just nod.

"Good."

"She's super smart, like you, right?"

"Um," I resist my instinct to give a lecture on how smart she is and the difference in our types of engineering and inventing. "Yeah."

He nods. "Those traps last year, they were something."

Blight chuckles. "Whenever she got a kill, the cameras cut to her, whatever she was doing. She didn't know anything had happened until the canon blast so she always just looked calm and undisturbed. Came off real cold and sinister."

"You watched the airing?" Heron only half-pays attention, fixing his dirty blonde hair so it lays over one eye.

"Yeah, I didn't mentor last year."

I try to remember who was from District 7 last year and find that all of my memories are blurry, tinged with worry and fear and the overwhelming awareness of how much danger Wiress was in every minute of the day. "We had Alice and Griffen," Blight tells me. That reminds me that we actually have enough victors to not have to mentor every year. I'll have to talk to Elisa and Marks, but the idea that we could spend next year's Games wrapped up in bed, ignoring the world, makes me happy. I'm brought back to reality by Heron's next words.

"You know what they'll want from her yet?" He doesn't need to say who they are. We know.

"At the moment, they're getting good television, a story. Us," I move my hand vaguely.

"You mean you aren't…?" Heron's eyes are wide, he seems sort of impressed with us for playing the Game. That's the thing about Career districts, they think everyone else has no clue what they're doing.

"We _are_ ," I tell him indignantly. Blight laughs, probably remembering how angry I got with his insults on Wiress' Victory Tour. "We're a real couple," I repeat, calmer this time, "and that's what has made us so successful. There isn't much reality in the Capitol." Both guys murmur in agreement.

"Those wickedly clever traps, though," Blight says quietly. "The Gamemakers or _someone_ is gonna want them."

"Just a matter of time," Heron adds.


	20. Chapter 20

_Wiress_

By the time Gunny shows up, I think I'm able to appear calm. I _hope_. She's in a floor length dress and fluffy wrap, I think she must have come straight from a party. I'm still not entirely sure what an escort's job is _during_ the Games. She grimaces at the breeze and produces a canary yellow scarf to tie her hair up. "They will kill me if I mess up my hair and they need to reset it." It's just filler prattle, doesn't really mean anything, I don't know who "they" are, do escorts have stylists of their own? But anyway it's got me thinking about the breeze and how it must be manufactured because I don't think any of it is actually open to the elements. I scan the walls for a duct. The Capitol keeps finding new and unusual ways to create fictions. "I've lost your attention already, I see," Gunny says, a bit of humor in her voice. I don't think she's angry with me.

"I just…" I can't finish my sentence. I look down at my hands, hating that I feel helpless without Beetee by my side. I'm frustrated and angry with myself; I _need_ to be able to survive on my own. I did it in the arena, why can't I do it now?

"It's okay, sweetie." She pats my shoulder gently. "So. Now you've been backstage at the Games. Seen how many people are destroyed by them each year." I nod, pursing my lips. It's something I'd been thinking about a lot in the past year. Would the Capitol be so horrible if we just didn't have the Games. My heart has settled on yes, that the way they push down every single District citizen would be intolerable even _without_ the taking and torture of their children. I try to put this in words to explain to Gunny but the thoughts slip between the cracks of my brain and don't come out of my mouth.

I settle for speaking slowly, carefully forming each word, tasting the syllables before saying them. "I think…" careful, careful. I don't know if I can trust her. I have to be vague. Don't show your fear, but don't hesitate too long either. "I think the general quality of life in the Districts is something that could be worked on." There are bells ringing in my head. It was good, wasn't it? A bland response, something I think I've said in interviews several times. Idealistic perhaps, but leaving the Capitol confident that they will be given anything I've managed to create.

Gunny sighs. "This will be a difficult conversation to have if we can't speak openly." She drums her perfectly manicured fingertips on the railing. "I brought you up here for a reason. The bugs don't really pick up anything, not with the wind and ambient noise. I think they have engineers working on better listening devices, in fact they'll probably ask you two about that. I'd play dumb, if I were you. I have no doubt that you _could_ improve on the existing design, but they don't know that. Tell them electronics aren't your strong suit and let Beetee handle it. Don't let them see any work you do on things like bugs or intercoms or cameras." She ends her little lecture by raising an eyebrow. "Got it?"

"Yes." I _think_ she's sincere. I usually have a good sense of when to trust people, and while there's no blood on her, my intuition isn't saying anything. I've just fought too hard to preserve my own life to do or say something stupid right now. "What do you suggest I work on?"

Gunny shrugs. "I don't know how any of the things you make work, darling. But fripperies. Little silly things to please the average citizen. Things of no import." She lights up suddenly, excited to work on strategy. "You're close with Fisk, aren't you? And your style team? Keep that up, make little things for them. It will keep you in their good graces, which is important, and then if anyone asks you about your creations you can focus on how much you like Capitol luxuries and want to create them at home in your dreary gray district. They eat up that kind of flattery, and it's very believable." I tilt my head, is it believable? When I don't wear any makeup of my own? "I mean no insult, sweetie, but you are rather plain, unadorned or not, and the citizen can't imagine that you could be happy like that. Plainness longing to be like them is one of those things they will just accept."

"The average citizen perhaps…"

"And what of the brains of the operation? It might still work. They might take it at face value or they might think you are wasting your talent, but I doubt they will view it as _cover._ " She sees my stricken face and shoots me a sympathetic look. "Oh _darling_ , I've seen you work on the train, you and Beetee, I know you're brilliant! You've been very clever at hiding your work, don't be sad that I've guessed!"

I stay silent, which seems to be the wisest course of action. I chew on my lip and try to keep breathing and don't say a single thing at all.

"I'm trying to help, Wiress. I really am." Her voice is soft and sincere, although brought down to almost a whisper. "There's not much any of us can do now except take baby steps. I like your ideas, the way you think. Small picture things. I don't think we'll be capable of stopping the government anytime soon, stopping the Games. But you want to help the districts. Districts _you_ can't really communicate with. You want to make things they need but have no way of getting them to where they need to be. _I_ do."

She's right. She's so right that I wonder if I've misheard her. I've been trying to come up with an idea, a plan to get anything I make past the Capitol and into the hands of those who will use it. I've come up blank and now Gunny has shown up as the answer and it feels too good to be true. It might be. It might be a trap. "I need to think," I mumble.

"Of course," she sighs. "You've got time to think, time to kill before these Games are over. It's early days, yet." Is it? I try to get my brain to settle and _think_ and is it really only the second evening of the Games? So many children have died already. The amount of time the Games take can vary widely, and I guess these ones seem to be going fast because there's not much cover in this arena. With fewer children left, they might be better able to hide now and it could drag on. Or the Gamemakers could intervene and end this in a matter of minutes.

"I've lost you again," she says, gently. I meet her eyes and I guess she can see the fear there, because she clucks her tongue and gently pats my hair. "Oh, sweetie. You'll survive this. I hope you realize that it's even possible for you to thrive." I'm doubtful, but she sounds very certain. She has an awful lot of confidence in me. "At the upcoming parties, I have someone I want you to meet. Someone that can help. If you decide you can trust me, you can also trust him. Just keep in mind that you aren't _alone_ in your cares, alright darling?" She straightens her shoulders and pouts her lips, putting her Capitol smile back on. "You're shivering, poor thing." I hadn't thought there would be an artificial breeze up here, had I? There wasn't one last year. Gunny unwraps the scarf from around her hair and drapes it around my neck. "There. You look lovely in yellow, Wiress. Like a little bird." She loops her arm in mine and we ride down in the elevator together in silence. She's given me quite a bit to think about.

_Beetee_

I spend time in the control room with the other mentors, not doing much of anything, but I want to give Wiress her space and I don't want to be alone. There are mentors still focused on their tributes in the arena, mentors who are drunk or high or otherwise indisposed, and mentors being social. I hate to call something so depressing 'normal', but after time in your home District around people who can't understand, it is rather nice to be around people like yourself. I call it a night somewhat early, and find a sleeping Wiress in our bed, worry lines etched into her forehead, even in sleep. Even at age seventeen. The hollowness sits in my stomach again. My poor girl. I join her in bed, feeling powerless and knowing that it is impossible for anyone to love another person enough to save them from this life.

I wake up slowly in the morning, the artificial light trickling in to mimic sunrise, my partner snuggling into my chest.

"Morning," she greets me, voice muffled in our blankets.

"Hi."

She sits up, adjusting and fiddling with the covers. There's something on her mind. "I need to talk to you."

I raise my eyebrows, intrigued.

"Do…" she trails off, watching the light make patterns on the carpet. It takes her a few moments to recollect where she is and what she's doing. "Do you trust Gunny?"

I think before I respond. "It would depend in what way. She seems reliable, she's good at her job. She gets us where we need to be without antagonizing us, she is usually even nice. That's a bit unusual for escorts. Most people hate theirs. I like her better than our last."

Wiress frowns, thinking. Then she motions for me to join her before pulling the blankets over our heads. I open my mouth to remind her that I had mostly covered the one bug in this room, so its sensitivity was too low to capture this kind of conversation, but she must have her reasons, and if the added precaution makes her feel more comfortable, so be it. "Gunny wants to help…us, the districts. I don't know…"

"…if you can trust her. I see, now." We're on tricky ground, here. She could be testing us. She could be checking our loyalty for the Capitol and in _that_ case, we'd be better off trying to turn _her_ in. Just not if she's actually on our side.

Wiress' big eyes are examining my face, hoping to find an answer there, but I don't have one. I'm just as lost and confused as she is. "She wants me to meet someone. At these parties. So I need to figure it out soon."

"What's your gut feeling?"

She frowns. "Yes. That she…we can. But I don't _know_ anything." We leave the conversation at that, for the time being.

The mentor room is quiet when we get there, everyone must be sleeping in if they don't still have tributes in the arena. Carmen waves us over just as an avox brings her a plate of food.

"Oh thank goodness, someone to talk to. Jolene and I are doing shifts and I need something to keep me awake."

Wiress sits next to her and peers at the screens. "Who's still in? I'm out of the loop."

"Jed, of course. Both from Two, still with the boy from One. The District 4 boy is alive, but left the alliance in the night." Wiress catches my eye, probably thinking how our tributes suspected District 4 wasn't comfortable with the careers this year. "let's see, two more. Odd ones. Ah, girls from Five and Seven."

"So few." This is only the third day.

"We missed the interviews? Final eight?" Wiress is chewing on her bottom lip. The interviews are difficult to watch, all those hopeful families. I would like to spare her this.

"Yes and no," Carmen gestures at one of the screens with her fork. "It was the middle of the night when we hit eight kids, so there was some lag. They've been trickling in all morning, and I bet they'll show them over and over during the day. Nothing's happening in the arena, everyone sort of has their own territory."

"It'll probably be quiet, then, while they catch up," I muse. Often, the final eight spurs gamemaker action, but the interviews should provide entertainment enough for the rest of the day. If there's no organic action by tomorrow, that's when we should expect surprises.

Wiress sighs and leans back into me. It's uncomfortable, in these chairs, but I'm not about to move her away. "I wish we were back home, in the workshop…"

"Me too." I kiss her temple.

"You're so cute. Stop," Carmen teases with a yawn. "Cute won't keep me awake, maybe try arguing."

Wiress giggles. "Why don't you take a catnap on one of the couches?" I suggest. "Wiress and I can keep an eye on Jed and wake you if necessary."

Carmen purses her lips, considering. She make like us just fine, but trust is different, especially with regards to the Games. "Alright. Twenty minutes at most, though. Jolene will be down in less than two hours."

The arena stays as quiet as we expect, through our twenty minutes and beyond. Jolene shows up for her shift at the screens, with only a quick kiss and a report before Carmen leaves for her rest. Jed finds food in the river again, but this time he risks a small fire, smothering it after only a short time to cook in the coals. I hate to admit that I'm bored, not when there are seven children fighting to stay alive, but I'm used to working on two or three complex problems at a time with my inventions, and my brain is begging for more stimulation. I open my mouth to complain to Wiress when we are approached by an avox. She's a pretty one, dark hair and green eyes, I wonder what she did to warrant the removal of her tongue. Did she refuse the wrong man? It's not just victors who are abused, sexually, and I imagine this would be quite the threat. She hands Wiress a note on soft pink notepaper. I shake off my thoughts, my imagination running away with me just because I've been bored.

"We're invited…" Wiress trails off, biting the inside of her cheek, handing me the note rather than force more words out. It's an invitation to a party tonight, from a citizen whose name seems familiar, probably one of Wiress' sponsors last year. She had a rush of them after her stunt in the clearing. "Gunny's work, I guess." I nod in agreement. I finally remember which of the many sponsors this 'Glenda Crane' is.

"She is nice enough. Probably a pretty low key party, she has a whole bunch of children she dotes on. You'd like her." Wiress raises her eyebrows to indicate how unlikely it is that she would like any Capitol citizen.

We stay another hour or so, in the control room with Jolene, but our hearts aren't in it. My thoughts are racing, and Wiress spends most of it leaning into my arms and I can't focus on an arena full of hiding children.

_Wiress_

I hate the lack of control I have when I need to play the Capitol's games. I hate being used and I hate being famous and I hate things like this, being invited to a party just because I was the best killer out of twenty four. I'm getting myself worked up, so I jump out of my chair and walk back and forth in the back of the room, trying to release this nervous energy. I _want_ to help the Districts. I want to do whatever I can, but at the moment, there's only one person who I know I can trust. That's more than many people have, I suppose. I stalk over to him where he's sitting calmly. I don't know how he does it. Doesn't he feel like he's about to burst, the way I do?

"Beetee" I whisper in his ear. He looks up at me. "Let me know when you're ready to get out of here." He raises an eyebrow and I answer him with a sly smile. He takes my hand and we slip away without saying anything to anyone. We push through the doors to our suite, eager to reach the bed. He kisses me so hard, takes my bottom lip between his teeth, runs his tongue along mine, every sensation is overwhelming in an amazing way. There's no room in my head for any thoughts other than the feelings. I'm so worked up right now. I need him. I need to feel him move inside me. I lean back on the bed, and he's immediately over me, eager to touch.

"Sparks, you drive me crazy, Wiress." He kisses his way along my jawbone, making me shiver. His hands run up my tunic, he spreads his fingers against my bare skin. His body feels so strong next to mine, I love the contrast, I love the masculinity.

"Beetee!" I moan. He thrusts his hips against mine, making me gasp. "So good…so good" I pant. He's hard against me, and I press against him, work my body along the hard ridge of him. Beetee's worked my tunic up around my shoulders, and lowers his head to run his tongue along the line of my bra. I shift my weight so I can yank the fabric over my head and off.

"Good girl," he murmurs into my skin. "This too". He unhooks my bra. I push him away with a smile, take it _all_ off. Now I have him to work on. He's very compliant, very willing to let me expose his body provided I cover each newly bare part with kisses. When I go to touch him, grasp his most intimate part, he shakes his head, pushes me back onto the bed. "I want to taste you right now." He smooths his hands over my body, kisses my hipbones.

"Mmm." I can't help making noise. He takes it as encouragement. He slides my legs apart, settles between them. He kisses my thighs and my hips, runs his hands closer to where I'd like him. He gently opens me with one finger, exposes me to his view. I find that I actually _like_ being this vulnerable for him. It doesn't make much sense, but it's enjoyable to be passive, to know that he's enjoying himself without me doing anything. Paradoxically, it makes me feel powerful. The first touch of his tongue gives me goose bumps. It always does. I'm very wet, I feel him run a finger along me, easing the passage until he finally slips it inside me. I'm very eager, I can't stop moving my body up towards his mouth. His free hand travels my hips and stomach, soothing over my flushed skin, bracing me down so he's in control. He nuzzles at me for a moment, resting and breathing, before pushing forward more intensely than before. He feels so good, my Beetee. I can't think. I don't want to think. My hands have moved to my breasts without me paying attention, I'm playing with them, running the sensitive pads of my fingers over my nipples. There's nothing I need to do, need to think about except this. Except Beetee.

His tongue is everywhere, he doesn't miss a spot. He licks and laps and slurps and sucks and kisses, and I'm driven wild. "Beetee!" I shriek, I can't help myself when he makes me feel this way, I get loud. "Oh sparks, Bee, sparks! More, faster!" He does what I ask, pumping a second finger in and out of me while he sucks at my clit. My hands fall from my chest to grip the sheet, trying hard not to pull his hair and interfere. Oh. Hair pulling. Just that tiny thought sets me over the edge, coming hard, bearing down on his fingers. "Bee!" He keeps moving throughout my orgasm, I don't even know what he's doing, but it seems to last forever, wave after wave of golden sparkles settling in my body. He's gentle when I stop shaking, stroking me softly, nuzzling and cuddling so I don't feel suddenly empty.

"Hold me," I whisper. He's used to how I feel needy after coming. Sometimes I feel wonderful, like I could take on the whole world, and sometimes, like now, I practically feel like crying even though I'm not sad. He kisses my stomach as he crawls up the bed, pulling me into an embrace. I bury my face in his shoulder and breathe in deep. He smells so good.


End file.
